More than Shadows
by Epilachna
Summary: Voldemort seeks a seer to help him plan the final stages of his war. Snape must find a way to thwart him, with the help of an unlikely ally, Lucius' brother Julian. Meanwhile, Lucius does all he can to keep himself and his family alive.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own nothing but the OCs and the plot. The following story takes place during the events of HBP and DH. _

**More than Shadows**

**Chapter 1**

Julian awoke with a start. His eyes were open, but all he could see was blood – blood dripping from the table, blood pooling on the floor. One more dead, he was certain of it. There would be no need to search _The Daily Prophet _for the tale. If he closed his eyes and focused, he could see the man's face, and the faces of his children.

_How brave the fool had been, how noble! _

To watch his children die one by one, each one tortured until their minds and bodies lay broken on the floor, and still refuse to submit, refuse to pledge himself to the Dark Lord!

Julian shut his eyes. The victims' pain and fear were threatening to overwhelm him. He needed to come back to himself, to _his _body and mind.

He began to count down from a thousand as his mother once taught him, his mind focused on slowing his racing heart. He needed to calm down, before the panic set in and drew him back to the terrible scene. He didn't want to watch their deaths again. It was over.

_Or was it? _

In truth, he had no idea if the images that invaded his dreams were shadows past. The bodies may already be cold and rotting, or this nightmare might be a reality yet to come, in the hours or days to follow. He didn't know, nor did he care to find out. All that was certain was that this dream would not be the last. The Dark Lord had set his Death Eaters to the task and they would hunt them down, one by one, every name on the cursed _list._ A laundry list of prophecies procured from the Department of Mysteries' vaults. It contained the names of all the greatest seers of Britain.

Julian couldn't help but laugh at the irony.

Voldemort sought a seer. One who could direct his steps in the war to come – a hand to guide him in his fanatical quest. There were few with the talent to fill such a position – in Britain – no more than a handful. Julian was one of them, but _his_ name was not on the list. He'd been too smart for that, like his mother, before him. No Malfoy would be foolish enough to record a prophecy, no Prince, either, by all accounts. He was safe for now – as safe as any Death Eater could be. They would not be breaking down his door this night.

Still, he knew they were close. Very soon the Dark Lord would have what he wanted – a seer at his beck and call. He could not see her face, but he could feel her… her laughter, her joy, her tears… It would not be long now. In days, maybe weeks, Lord Voldemort would have power over them all. He would plan his attacks with deadly precision. He would bring the wizarding world to its knees.

Julian continued counting. He reached five hundred before the meditation technique took effect. By three hundred his heart had slowed, and he could once again feel the touch of soft linen against his skin. At one hundred he shut his eyes, and by the power of his will, cleared his mind of all thoughts. There was nothing he could do to save them, so it made no sense to lose sleep over it now. He needed rest; he had an important business meeting in the morning, and a Ministry dinner to attend at five.

Upon reaching one he took several calming breaths, and forcing the horrors he'd just witnessed to the back of his mind, Julian rolled over and went back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Two days later there was more than enough reason for Julian to pore over the morning paper.

_**Hogwarts Attacked: Dumbledore Murdered**_

That was the headline on the front page.

It was disappointing. Julian always thought he'd see something as big as this coming, but as his mother was always quick to remind him, the visions that came unbidden to those with the sight were not of the _seer's_ choosing. That meant instead of watching someone 'off' the greatest wizard of the age – so called – _he _was blessed with watching a family of half-bloods butchered. It was an insult, or so he thought. He'd have much preferred to watch the old man die. Not that Julian had anything _personal _against his former headmaster. No, he simply felt that a wizard of his power and station deserved a glimpse of what was sure to be one of the greatest historical events of his lifetime.

_Oh well. _

It was no surprise he was cheated of the opportunity, as fate had always enjoyed the pranks she played on him. Wasn't the fact that Lucius was born first proof enough? The damn fool had inherited everything the Malfoys had ever worked for, and what does he do? He gets himself thrown into Azkaban and his assets frozen!

Julian hadn't _precisely_ seen that coming, but something warned him long ago to keep his money and his reputation as unattached to his brother – and the Dark Lord – as possible. In that, he'd been a marvelous success. His colleagues and friends had come out in droves to support him when his brother was arrested. Each one assured him that his brother's foul deeds would not tarnish Julian's good name.

He'd had to keep himself from laughing in their faces. Since when was 'Malfoy' a _good_ name?

Julian continued to read the article, unsurprised to learn that the Dark Mark had been present at Hogwarts and something of a small skirmish had occurred. What did surprise him was the accusation that Severus Snape had cast the fatal spell – now _that _was a bit of news. Snape was something of a puzzle to him – ever since they were children at school. He was one of the few people Julian could not read. Occlumency, no doubt, but even when Snape was young and untrained his mind had been like a black box. Maybe that's why he liked Snape so much. There were so few people who were a mystery to him. Julian hoped to wring the story of what happened with Dumbledore out of Snape the next time he saw him. And he would see Snape, quite soon in fact. He'd seen it, not five days ago in a dream, the two of them talking together in some dark, secret corridor. He'd catch up with Snape, and draw from him the whole of the dark tale.

It had likewise come as no surprise to Julian that he'd had no knowledge of a planned attack. His dear brother Lucius was still in Azkaban after all, and those he knew in the inner circle were too tight-lipped to let a secret like this one slip. Not that he was complaining. He was more than happy to be left in the dark, in fact, he preferred it that way. He took the Mark as a matter of course, but had no aspirations of joining Voldemort's core of fanatical followers. He didn't mind being called upon now and then to aid in the cause, but unlike his elder brother, he had no desire to play lapdog to a madman.

Of course, the _choice_ of whether or not to play might soon be taken from them all.

Julian needed no vision to realize that time was running out for the wizarding world, and for him as well. Dumbledore's death knell rang the start of Voldemort's greatest hour and his second and third battalions were sure to be gathered soon. He hoped it would not be too soon. He'd been so looking forward to his summer vacation in Nice.

A loud knock on Julian's office door ended his silent musings. "Come," he called from where he sat at his desk.

A squat, cheeky man entered the room with a pile of contracts in his hand. He looked very near to tears, "G-good, morning, Mister M-malfoy," Aaron stuttered.

"Apparently not," Julian replied, holding up the paper.

The man laid the documents on Julian's desk. One look at the animated image of the Dark Mark hovering above Hogwarts and the tiny man burst into tears. "Hor-rible, s-simply t-t-terrible," he wailed.

"There, there," Julian said, patting the man on the back in an unusual display of sympathy. Aaron Abacus was one of the best financial minds in the real estate business. Julian needed him to pull himself together if they were to finish the deal with Gringott's today. "No need to dwell on what is past," he said with a wry smile. "Look to the future, my friend. Why, with Dumbledore's death, the market investors will be all affright. It will be an excellent time to buy!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Julian was not expecting company when the doorbell chimed at close to midnight. His house elf Slinky appeared before him in a flash, looking nervous.

"Master Malfoy," the creature bowed respectfully, "you has company, sir."

"Who is it, Slinky?" Julian asked. He was already in his sleeping robe and not at all prepared for receiving guests.

At the question, Slinky's nervousness increased. "It is your brother's wife, sir, Mistress Malfoy."

His house elf's unease made sense now. Poor Slinky had witnessed the argument he and Lucius had a year ago when Lucius confronted Julian about his 'embarrassing lack of dedication' to the Dark Lord's cause. It was the last time he'd seen his brother – or his brother's wife. Curious to learn what would bring Narcissa to his door in the middle of the night after his brother had all but disowned him, he made ready to receive his guest.

"Escort her to the parlor, Slinky. I will be down in a moment."

The house elf vanished with a pop and Julian put on a pair of warm leather slippers and combed his hair. He wasn't about to get dressed up to greet his sister-in-law, but a neat, presentable appearance was always best when confronting the unknown.

Julian made his way, unhastily, down the stairs and on to his parlor. He could hear Slinky offering Narcissa a drink which she declined. That was the moment he made his entrance. Narcissa was seated on a large leather wing chair. It made her slender frame appear even smaller in comparison. She had always been a beautiful woman, but the last year had taken its toll on her appearance. She was still a striking figure, as all the Black women were, but despite their physical appeal there was always something about that family which made Julian uneasy. He thanked his lucky stars he'd never married one.

"Good evening, Narcissa. This is a … surprise." He left the word _pleasant_ out of his greeting deliberately. After all, there was no need for such social contrivances. Narcissa knew very well that he wasn't pleased to see her.

"Julian," she replied with formality. "Thank you for seeing me at this late hour."

She didn't simper or smile or put on a show when she returned his greeting. That alone told Julian how serious the situation was. He went to the counter and poured himself a brandy, not bothering to offer her one after her conversation with Slinky. He took a seat opposite her but his attention was on his drink which he swirled slowly, deliberately, before taking a sip. After drawing out the silence for a near interminable period, he looked up at his guest.

"Are you going to tell me why you're here, Narcissa? Is it money? I heard the Ministry froze Lucius' accounts, although it was good of them to let you remain in the Manor."

Narcissa's expressionless face remained unaltered despite his condescending tone. "I'm here at my husband's request," she said. "He wishes to see you."

That was just about the last thing he'd expected Narcissa to say, and it took all of Julian's control to prevent his face from revealing his surprise. "If I remember correctly, the last time I saw my dear brother he told me he never wished to lay eyes on me again. Or was I mistaken?"

Narcissa inhaled deeply, pride at war with her desire to accomplish her task. "He has … _changed_ his mind," she answered.

"And after only a year in Azkaban?" Julian sneered. "It seems my dear brother has gone soft. He would probably say it runs in the family."

Narcissa said nothing to this, she merely asked, "Will you go to him?"

Julian took another sip of his brandy to think on his response. He really had no desire to spend an afternoon with dementors. They wore down his control. Julian was not fond of the idea of being bombarded with visions from the minds of the prisoners of Azkaban. And yet there was something quite delicious about the prospect of seeing Lucius broken and pleading for his help. That, alone, was enough to sway him.

"How do I go about arranging a visit? I assume one cannot simply show up at Azkaban's door and expect admittance."

The tension in Narcissa's face and shoulders seemed to melt away. "I've already arranged it. You can appear at any time," she said, quite businesslike.

"Will tomorrow be acceptable to you, Narcissa?" he asked her with a callous smile.

"Whenever you wish," Narcissa replied, and stood abruptly. "I must be going now," she told him, looking relieved that she could now escape Julian's presence.

"Of course," he stood to escort her to the door. "It _is_ rather late."

When they reached the front door Julian took the handle, but instead of opening it, he fixed Narcissa with a look of cold appraisal. "You haven't told me why Lucius wishes to see me. Do you know?"

"I couldn't say," she answered almost too quickly.

Julian noted the glimmer of fear behind her eyes as well as her carefully chosen reply. "I see," he said, opening the door for her, "then I bid you goodnight."

Narcissa fled from his home as fast as her feet could carry her and disapperated as soon as she was beyond his wards.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It was cold, so very cold in Azkaban. Julian followed the warden as he led the way to Lucius' cell, past madmen and death eaters and dementors, alike. It took all of Julian's strength to maintain his psychic wards and keep the thoughts of the prisoners out of his head. The warden dropped the wards to number 738, unlocked the door to Lucius' cell and waved him inside.

"Ten minutes," the warden said.

Julian nodded, and then stepped inside. He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him.

Lucius was bound to the wall by magical chains. He was dressed in filthy prison clothes and his unkempt hair fell in matted piles around his drawn face. There was always a great family resemblance between Julian and his brother. They had the same straight, pale blond hair common to the Malfoys, which Julian always kept just above his chin. They were both attractive men, but Julian's features were softer and where Lucius was accorded 'handsome', people tended to think Julian as 'beautiful', particularly in his youth before time set in. But while Julian was, even at the worst of times, a fine, dashing figure, there was very little to call handsome about the man crouched on the stone floor.

"Lucius, you look … terrible," Julian said with disdain. "I wouldn't worry though, with Dumbledore gone I'm certain it's only a matter of time before the Dark Lord has his servants freed. You'll be at our Master's feet again in no time."

Lucius continued to stare into the dark corner of the cell as if he could not see or hear Julian at all. The sight of his brother in such a state made Julian decidedly uneasy. He wanted nothing more than to get this meeting over and done with.

"Are you going to tell me why I'm here?" Julian asked. When no response was forthcoming, he took a step closer, standing directly in his brother's line of sight. "Lucius? Lucius!" Julian called to him, concern for his brother kindling for the first time in his heart.

Lucius startled and two grey eyes, clouded with some unidentifiable emotion met Julian's. "He tried to kill Draco," Lucius whispered. "He tried to kill my son."

There was no question who that 'someone' was. "And you're surprised?" Julian nearly laughed, but the sight of his brother's haunted expression was not quite as enjoyable as he'd hoped. "I thought you were smarter than that."

When Lucius continued to stare at him silently, Julian grew even more uncomfortable. "What happened?" he asked in an attempt to get his brother talking.

Lucius looked away, his eyes fixed on a dark corner of the cell as if the answer lay there. "He gave Draco the task of killing Dumbledore," Lucius said.

"Draco killed Dumbledore?" Julian gasped.

"_Of course_ _not_," Lucius snapped. For a moment his eyes and face became the man Julian remembered, hard, cold, always in control. It was only for a moment. Before his very eyes the Lucius Julian knew transformed once more into the broken man hunched on the cold stone floor. "Snape killed him. Draco couldn't do it, so Snape finished the job."

Julian exhaled slowly. It was always a bad idea to fail the Dark Lord. "What did our Master have to say to that?"

Lucius shook his head to clear his thoughts. The cold and the dementors had taken its toll. He was finding it difficult to concentrate on the conversation at hand. "Snape covered," he said at last, "claimed he didn't know about Draco's orders and killed the old man before Draco had the chance."

"There were no other witnesses?" Julian asked.

"Four – but Snape took care of them," Lucius replied.

Julian didn't know what Lucius meant by _'took care of them'_, nor did he intend to ask. It wasn't important. There was one thing, however, that troubled him. "Why would Snape go to so much trouble to protect Draco?" Julian asked. "It's not as though he likes you all that much. I don't think he likes _anyone_ all that much."

Lucius shrugged. "You'll have to ask him yourself."

"Perhaps I will," Julian said mostly to himself. He pondered his brother for a moment before it occurred to him to ask. "Where is Draco now?"

"With Snape … somewhere," Lucius replied.

Julian noted how this fact seemed to offer Lucius some small bit of comfort. Whatever reason Snape had for saving Draco's arse, it was enough for Lucius to trust him. And 'trust' was not a characteristic the Malfoy family displayed very often.

Everything was slowly beginning to fall into place for Julian. Narcissa's visit, Dumbledore's death, the dream he'd had about Snape … but something was still missing.

"You still haven't told me why I'm here," Julian said at last.

Lucius closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, they seemed clearer, more determined. "I will not be in Azkaban for much longer," Lucius stated with certainty. "Once I'm set free I will have to appear before the Dark Lord and beg his forgiveness."

The thought of crawling before another wizard didn't seem to offend Lucius as Julian thought it would. There was something else that held a greater import for Lucius, and Julian waited patiently to hear what it was.

"If I'm killed…," Lucius faltered. He did not want to speak these thoughts aloud, but if he was going to save his family, he had no choice. He took a deep, unsteady breath, and fixing his brother with a firm gaze, he said, "If I die, it will not be long before Draco and Narcissa follow me."

Julian had to agree. It was the most likely outcome of this messy affair. Still, there seemed to be a question behind his brother's words. "Is there a request in there somewhere?" Julian asked him.

Lucius swallowed hard. This was the most difficult moment he'd ever faced. If Julian refused him, there would be no hope left. Drawing around him all the courage and fortitude the Malfoy clan possessed, he answered. "If I'm killed I want you to send them away – far away – where _he_ can't find them."

Julian's jaw nearly dropped at his brother's not-so-small request. "What makes you think I can do that?" he asked.

"I know the extent of your holdings Julian … houses, estates, private islands … and I'm certain a few secret places you keep off the books," Lucius replied.

_More than a few_, Julian added silently before pinning his brother with a cold, hard glare. "This is a rather large favor you're asking from someone you last called '_a disgrace to the Malfoy name_'."

"I was … wrong … to say that," Lucius whispered. "I'm sorry."

Julian had never before heard his brother apologize for anything he'd said or done. He was unnerved by the sound of those three simple words. "I never thought I'd hear you apologize for anything, Lucius."

Lucius seemed equally surprised that he'd said it – even more, that he meant every word. "Will you help me?" he asked.

There was fear behind his brother's question. Julian felt it in the air. It should have been quite the moment of triumph. He'd often wished to see Lucius taken down a notch or two, but seeing his brother like this was not at all what he'd dreamed it would be. "I will help you, Lucius – if I can," he said.

"Thank you," Lucius sighed in relief.

Julian nodded and backed away towards the door. He wanted nothing more than to go home, sit in his favorite chair and drink himself into oblivion. It might just make him feel better and help him forget the sight of his brother broken on the floor.

"Julian," Lucius' voice called out to him before he could open the door.

Julian turned to face his brother again. When all Lucius did was stare, he grew impatient. "What is it?" Julian asked.

Lucius studied his brother's face a moment before answering. "Did you see this coming?" he asked quietly.

A chill ran down Julian's spine that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room or the dementors that roamed the halls. The question could be interpreted in many ways, but something in the core of Julian's being told him his brother asked not if he'd 'seen it coming', but if he'd _seen_ it. "What do you mean?" he asked, so as to reveal nothing.

Lucius looked thoughtful for a time, as if he was trying to figure out the answer himself. "Father always said that mother knew things. She told him it was just woman's intuition, but still, she always seemed to know…," Lucius paused to collect his scattered thoughts. It was clearly an effort for him now. "Mother always liked you best. I used to think it was because I was father's favorite, so she favored you, but now..." his voice trailed off, his thoughts lost once more in the darkness.

"Now?" Julian pressed.

"Now I think," Lucius answered. "I think ... perhaps ... you chose your steps with greater care because you could see which stairs were weak, and avoided them … and I … I have fallen through."

Julian sought a way to answer his brother truthfully without revealing too much. There was no telling what the Dark Lord might wring from Lucius before he died – _if _he died. "It doesn't take a prophecy to know that aligning oneself too closely with either side is a poor gamble. It's always safest to remain in the middle, Lucius, so that whichever direction the scales tip, you can keep your balance."

Lucius nodded. "I see that now."

A stab of pity struck Julian deep in the heart. Poor Lucius, what a fool he'd been.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Voldemort dismissed his Death Eaters one by one until only Severus Snape and two others remained. Snape's companions, Clayworth and Rukin, were young and eager and both had a talent for inflicting pain. They were well suited to the task Voldemort set for them. When the room was emptied of all but the three the Dark Lord's gaze fell on Snape.

"What progress, Severus?" he asked.

Snape knew Voldemort would not be pleased by his answer. "I'm afraid the last target was – _reluctant_ – to offer you his services."

"You did all you could to persuade him?" Voldemort's eyes passed over all three men when he asked the question.

Clayworth fell immediately to his knees and Rukin followed his lead. Neither man wanted their Master to think he'd not made an effort. They both knew what became of a Death Eater who did not perform his duties well.

"We did, my Lord," Clayworth said.

"Even his family's screams were not enough to convince him," Rukin added desperately.

"I see," Voldemort said and returned his attention to his most loyal servant.

Snape ignored his companions' toadying and continued with his report. "My Lord, they know we are searching for them now," he said. "Many have fled Britain, or disappeared entirely. Those we have found have been quite resistant, and if they can not be convinced to serve you willingly, they are of no use to us."

That tiny fact, at least, was a blessing. A seer could not be forced to scry for another, they could only do so by their own will, and it seemed that most of the seers in Britain were _quite _unwilling. Severus did not believe in luck, but even he had to admit the fates had been on his side these many weeks. His attempts to bring a seer into the Dark Lord's service were an abysmal failure, though Severus could hardly be given credit for that fact.

"Well then, Severus," Voldemort replied, "I believe we'll need to adjust our methods if this task is to be accomplished in a timely manner." The Dark Lord glided across the wooden floor to the far corner of the room. He laid his hand on an ornately decorted box resting on a table.

"My Lord?" Severus wasn't quite sure of his meaning.

Voldemort turned to the two young Death Eaters, who at some point in the conversation had climbed to their feet. "Leave us," he told them.

The men obeyed with haste, and when the door closed behind them, Voldemort called Severus to his side. With a wave of his wand, he lowered the wards protecting the box's contents.

"I have a thing here that might be of interest to a wizard of your talents." Voldemort opened the box, withdrew a scroll and handed the rolled up piece of parchment to his servant.

Severus took the scroll and unrolled it slowly, dreading to learn what secret it contained. He had the sinking suspicion that his good luck was about to end. "What is this?" he asked.

"A recipe," Voldemort replied, "for a rather potent potion that might make your task a trifle easier."

Severus' face betrayed none of the horror he felt upon reading the first line of the text. He would curse fate and Voldemort later – now was not the time.

Voldemort mistook Snape's lengthy perusal of the scroll for interest. "I'm afraid the brewing process itself is quite delicate and requires a number of rare ingredients, though a man of your talents should have little difficulty."

Severus lifted his gaze from the parchment to find that Dark Lord grinning – never a pleasant sight. "My I ask how this came into your possession, my Lord?" Snape risked the question, hoping the Dark Lord would offer him an answer.

"I picked it up in my travels," he replied, as if it were merely a trifle. "I thought it might come in useful some day."

Useful indeed – there were dark wizards who had spent their entire lives searching for this elixir and it would certainly tip the scales in the Dark Lord's favor. "This potion will need to be brewed fresh for each use," Snape said, "and it can not be transported by magical means. It will also require the seer's blood, so he and the laboratory will need to be housed at the same location."

Snape was certain the Dark Lord understood all of this, but he said it anyway just to keep his mind clear of any thoughts that might betray him. "We had no plans to hold a seer captive, where do you wish to secure him – Malfoy Manor?" It was the logical choice. The Manor possessed a system of underground rooms – the family's own private dungeon. It had been used often in the Dark Lord's service. There were prisoners held there even now.

Voldemort looked thoughtful for a moment before responding. "No," he said at last. "This particular task needs to be kept as quiet as possible and away from prying eyes. We will need another secure location." The Dark Lord passed his skeletal fingers over his chin and lips in thought. He did not want the other Death Eaters asking questions and too many knew the secrets of Lucius' house. But Severus' mention of the Malfoys had given him an idea. Lucius' brother had provided his Death Eaters with safe houses when they first escaped from Azkaban. This task required his services once again. Voldemort was confident at least _one_ Malfoy could contribute something useful to his cause.

"Perhaps it is time to call upon the younger Malfoy," Voldemort said. "I'm certain he can find a suitable hideaway with all that you require."

"I will take care of it immediately, my Lord," Severus said.

Voldemort held out his hand and Snape handed him the parchment. The Dark Lord then dismissed his servant with a wave of his hand.

Snape was nearly to the door when the Dark Lord called after him. "And Severus," Voldemort said before his servant left him. "Once you have a seer secured, I expect you to tie up loose ends. We wouldn't want information about this little endeavor falling into the wrong hands."

Severus was not at all surprised by Voldemort's command – Clayworth and Rukin were chosen to aid him for _both_ their brutality and expendability. It would be a pleasure to end their wretched lives, but what of Julian…? "Would that include the younger Malfoy as well?" Snape asked.

Voldemort considered the question for a moment before deciding on an answer. "No, not yet," he said. "I still have hopes that he'll be more useful than his brother and you'll need someone who possesses more than half a brain to assist you in this task."

Snape agreed, but for his part, was somewhat surprised that Voldemort would consider entrusting yet another important task to a family who had failed him so many times. It was becoming ever more apparent that the Malfoy line was dangerously close to an end. One more mistake was all it would take. "And you trust Julian not to reveal any details of this matter to Lucius?" he asked.

Voldemort cackled at his servant's question. The sound of it echoed eerily off the walls and his eyes glinted coldly when he answered, "I trust no one."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Julian was tired of the interruptions. He had two stacks of owl posts he needed to respond to before calling it a day, and if Abacus interrupted him _one more time_ he might just have to hex the man to oblivion. He momentarily considered putting a silencing charm on his door.

"Come in," he called for what felt like the twentieth time that day.

Abacus opened the door and stuck his head in nervously, "So sorry to interrupt you again Mister Malfoy, but there is a young man here to see you. He says he is an associate of yours, from the Purebrothers Corporation, I believe."

Julian knew the code. The 'corporation' was a legitimate business Julian set up to handle the Dark Lord's financial affairs. It was a safe way for _investors_ to channel money into the hands and pockets of their Master. "Please show him in," Julian replied and stood to greet the company's _representative_.

A young man of no more than twenty-five entered behind Abacus. He was tall and handsome with brown hair neatly trimmed and he wore a rather expensive suit. He was the picture of a young pureblood gentleman, the type of fool the Death Eaters ate for breakfast.

Julian extended his hand.

"Mister Malfoy, this is Mister Harrington," Abacus said.

"A pleasure to meet an associate of the Purebrothers," Julian said formally, keeping his thoughts and emotions concealed. He took no chances where strangers were concerned. "Will you have a seat?" he asked, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. He dismissed Abacus before returning to his.

"So, Mister Harrington, what can I do for you today?" Julian asked.

The young man took the seat, reclining in it leisurely as if it were his own. He looked over Julian with a cold, calculating gaze, an expression that seemed altogether out of place on the young man's face. There was something terribly wrong here, Julian could feel it, but there was nothing he could do for the moment. With a simple slight of hand he drew his wand from its holster beneath the desk, keeping it out of sight, but ready at a moment's notice.

The staring contest ended when the young man's lips curled into a twisted smile. "Is your wand at the ready, Julian?"

The voice was wrong, and the face – a perfect mask – never faltered, but the smooth way the words rolled off the young man's tongue told Julian everything he needed to know.

"Severus?" he asked, greatly disturbed by how he could almost see the old Death Eater shining through the young man's façade.

The young man nodded. "Pleased to see me?" he asked.

"Well, I'm not really _seeing_ you, am I?" Julian answered, relaxing a bit but not quite ready to lower his wand.

"I can't exactly go walking down Diagon Alley in my own skin, can I?" Snape replied.

Julian had to agree. Snape was in all the papers. The Aurors were looking for him everywhere. "So who is this you are wearing, some young fool who failed to impress the Dark Lord?"

"A muggle," Severus answered. "I didn't want to be recognized by anyone. The last thing I need is for some idiot to strike up a conversation with me."

"Too true," Julian murmured. It made perfect sense. So like Snape to consider all the details. "And you picked such a pleasant disguise. Was this wish fulfillment on your part?" he jibed.

Snape was not amused, but nor did he appear particularly offended by the remark. The young man's lips merely formed the older wizard's signature sneer. "You find it pleasing, do you? Perhaps that explains why your brother never convinced you to marry."

Julian laughed at Snape's quick and pointed repartee – a short bark of amusement that lit his eyes. "What can I do for you Severus?" he asked for the second time. "What could the man who accomplished the seemingly impossible task of killing _the great_ _Dumbledore_ possibly need from me?"

Snape ignored the comment about Dumbledore. He, too, was ready to get down to business. "The Dark Lord requires a safe house, one that can hold a special guest and also has space for a potions laboratory."

Julian considered his words carefully before responding. "Is my brother's dungeon full already?" he asked, hoping the question might shake loose some small piece of information.

"No, not yet," Snape replied. "This particular guest, however, will require _private _accomodations."

"I see," Julian replied. His mind was racing. He had a clear idea of who this guest might be, the part that troubled him was this talk of potions. "A prison with a potions lab? I should be able to come up with something." He tapped his fingers to his chin while he thought. "Does size or location matter?" he asked.

"As long as we can apparate there from Malfoy Manor and it can accommodate my needs," Snape replied.

"When do you need it ready by?" Julian asked.

"Yesterday, if possible," Snape replied, "but I will settle for the end of the week."

"I will leave you notice through the usual channels," Julian said.

Snape nodded once and stood with one fluid motion. "I should also inform you that you will be called upon to assist me in this matter. The Dark Lord has decided no one else is to know of my activities, aside from you."

"I see," Julian said carefully. "And am I to be informed about these _activities_ any time soon?"

"You will," Snape answered, "when all is prepared."

It was not the answer Julian wanted but it would have to suffice. He nodded his goodbye and watched the young man who was Severus Snape slip out the door. It was only after he had gone that Julian thought to ask after Draco.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Julian was having trouble sleeping. He had received an owl from Snape several hours earlier. The house he prepared had passed inspection and Snape wanted him there at eleven the next evening to discuss their orders. The anticipation was driving Julian insane and making sleep even more difficult than usual. For weeks now, his nights were plagued by dreams and visions too terrible to speak of. He pushed them all quickly out of his mind when he woke, but they were beginning to wear him down. He was tired, and fatigue did nothing to enhance his mental control or his physical appearance. If the visions did not cease on their own, he would soon look as worn out as Lucius.

Julian's dreams this night were born from anticipation. Each vignette was different, but the same. He would find himself reaching for a door handle only to find it ever further from reach. Or, he would begin ascending a staircase, knowing the thing he sought would be waiting for him when he reached the final step – which he never did. All night, one dream would shift into another at precisely the same moment – just before he completed the task and reached his goal – and a new trial would begin. It happened over and over again with frustrating predictability.

It was during one such dream, where he strode purposefully down some never-before-seen woodland path that the dream changed abruptly and everything went dark. Julian groped desperately in the black, trying to find the light. He was trapped, and the darkness was suffocating. He needed a candle to light his way. He needed to wake up.

As if on command, a light appeared ahead of him, blinding Julian momentarily so that he shielded his eyes. The glow faded somewhat, and in its center, he saw a figure. He stepped closer, his eyes focusing in the new light to find a woman staring back at him. She sat cross-legged before him, suspended in mid-air by the darkness. She smiled at him. The sight sent a chill down Julian's spine. This was her. He knew it. For the first time he could see her quite clearly. With dark hair and eyes, a round face, and a gentle smile she looked so … _ordinary_ … like any witch he might bump into on the street. The light that surrounded her made her age difficult to discern. She was younger than Julian, but not a child by any means – thirty, thirty-five at the most. He wanted to say something to her, to warn her, but he found he was unable to speak. In a wave of despair, two thoughts rose to the surface of his mind: _I just want this war to be over. I want the nightmares to end. _

The apparition heard his secret thoughts. Laughter echoed in the darkness – warm, amused.

"Don't worry, Julian," the woman said, though her lips never moved. "It will all be over soon."

Julian fell out of bed, so violently did her words startle him from sleep. He took several deep breaths before climbing up off the floor, and resting his head on the rumpled bed sheets. He knew the woman had been no dream. She had come to him in a vision, just as his mother had when she lived. Julian closed his eyes, willing with all his might that the vision be driven from his mind. It was a pointless effort. Hours after the vision woke him he could still see her face, and her soft laughter continued to echo in his mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The three Death Eaters apparated just beyond the house's wards.

Severus lifted his wand, and with a bit of magic and several minutes of effort, he lowered them. It was a crime how easy it was. The Death Eaters' infiltration of the Ministry had made it possible to learn anything they wanted to know about their target including the layout of the house, the wards she had placed on the perimeter, the spells required to bring them down.

Wasting no time, Severus walked up to the front door, turned the handle, and entered. Rukin and Clayworth followed close behind. All three men moved silently into the house, the sound of their footsteps masked by a spell. The house was dark inside, darker even than the night sky. The trio moved carefully so as not to make any noise. Severus gestured for Rukin and Clayworth to take the stairs while Severus continued through the hallway to the kitchen. He entered slowly, his wand held at the ready. There was nothing. Only some dirty dishes soaking in the sink, proof, at least, that someone had been home recently. He moved on through the kitchen towards the parlor. The room was dark, the drapes drawn over the windows. If anyone was hiding in the darkness, they would see his shadow through the arched door. Severus dared the danger, hoping, if only for a moment, that a spell might strike him down before he entered.

He stepped through the door.

"Lumos," a voice spoke from the corner.

Severus spun around, simultaneously lighting his wand and leveling it at the voice's source.

A woman held her wand aloft, a gentle light shining from its tip. She lowered it slightly, meeting Severus' eyes with a calm, unflinching gaze that filled him with unease. Her head cocked to the side as she considered him. The sound of her voice broke the silence once more.

"I was expecting someone else," she said.

Severus, startled by her words, took several seconds to respond. "Sorry to disappoint you, Miss Halliwell." It was all he could think of to say.

"Please, call me Serena," she said, and smiled.

It was the last thing a victim at the end of a Death Eater's wand was likely to do and it threw him. Severus lowered his wand.

"I should feel honored that he would send you," she continued cordially, as though she were truly happy to have Snape as her guest. "It's not every day a witch is given proof of her own worth."

"You knew we were coming?" Severus asked, though the answer seemed obvious enough.

"I wouldn't be much of a seer if I didn't," Serena replied. "I even packed a bag," she added, gesturing to a small suitcase that sat beside the door.

At this point the two younger Death Eaters returned from their survey of the second floor. Clayworth called ahead of him when he saw Snape from the kitchen. "Snape, the upstairs is … clear …," his words faltered when the full scene came into view. A woman sat in the corner with her wand lit and Snape had his lowered. _What in the name of Merlin is going on?_

"Ah, more guests," Serena said as Clayworth and Rukin stepped through the door. "Would you boys care for a drink?" She turned her attention back to Snape. "Forgive me, Severus, for not asking you sooner."

"What is this?" Clayworth growled at Snape. "Why haven't you disarmed her?"

"_Accio_," Rukin cried and Serena's wand went soaring into his outstretched hand.

Serena merely looked at her fingers and shrugged, as though the loss of her wand mattered not at all. "I guess that makes them feel safer," she said to Snape.

Severus continued to eye the woman warily. This was not how a meeting like this one was supposed to begin, and despite his ability for dealing with the unpredictable, Snape never enjoyed being caught off guard. There was something very wrong about this entire encounter.

"Why are you here?" he asked her, his voice dark, threatening, but his attempt at intimidation had no effect.

"Why?" she echoed as if confused, but her eyes told Severus that she mocked him.

"If you knew we were coming," Snape continued, "you could have left."

The woman seemed to consider this for a moment before casting the idea aside. "Perhaps I knew it would be better for everyone if I stayed," she replied.

"How is that?" Snape asked.

"Now Severus," Serena shook her head, admonishing him like an idiot child. "You don't really expect me to reveal all my secrets that easily?"

From the doorway, Clayworth and Runkin followed the conversation with quiet unease, their eyes moving back and forth between Severus and the woman seated in the chair. This was not like any encounter they had had before. At this point in the game, their targets were generally pleading for mercy, but the woman appeared quite unafraid.

Serena's eyes returned to Clayworth and Rukin for a moment, as if sensing their confusion. She looked at each man in turn, though she continued to speak to Snape.

"They're disappointed," she said. "They were so looking forward to hurting someone tonight."

With a tired sigh, the woman rose to her feet, slipping her shoes on, right foot, then left. She gestured to the bag in the corner. "Will you let me take my things?" she asked Snape.

Severus considered the odd request. He looked the woman square in the face, searching for something, anything. All he saw was what one might call peacefulness and something else he could not define. It struck him then that the woman was completely unreadable. All he could glean from her eyes was what she permitted him to see.

"Clayworth, check the bag," Snape barked.

The younger man walked over to the corner and cast a series of spells. When nothing happened, he opened the bag and looked inside. "There is nothing, only clothing and a few books," he said.

"Take it then and meet us at the safe house," Snape replied.

Clayworth lifted the bag, looking not at all certain that he should be leaving Snape alone with their prisoner. When Snape glared at the younger man Clayworth quickly changed his mind, and with a short nod to Rukin, the two men disapparated.

Severus stretched out his hand and took the woman by her upper arm. His long fingers circled it completely. Her chin lifted and black eyes gazed up at him.

"Do you think it strange," she asked, "that I pity them?"

The question took Severus by surprise, though his expression, thankfully, betrayed nothing. The seer's eyes, however, spoke volumes. She knew what fate awaited Rukin and Clayworth when this task was done. She knew, also, all the horrors they committed, the suffering and death they were responsible for, that _he_ was responsible for. It was a wonder she could smile on them at all.

Snape had never met a true seer before this night, and for the first time in many years, he knew fear. He did not answer her, but merely tightened his grip on her arm and prepared to apparate. He tried not to dwell on the thought that he held in his grasp more than he had bargained for – a wizard who might truly have the power to bring the world crashing down.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Julian was not expecting Clayworth and Rukin when they walked through the door. Severus failed to mention them in his message. The two young Death Eaters, however, greeted Julian by name. They, at least, had known to expect him.

"He's coming," Clayworth said of Snape, before he and Rukin disappeared into the kitchen. They took a seat at the table and spoke together quietly so the third man could not overhear.

Julian's attention did not long remain on the two young men, for by the time they were seated, the front door opened a second time. Snape entered, leading a woman along by her arm. Julian's gaze flew to her face, which he recognized immediately from his dreams.

"Julian." Snape nodded in acknowledgement, but it was not he who held the other man's attention.

"There you are," Serena said, her focus, too, on Julian.

Snape's gaze shifted from Julian to the woman and back again. "Do you two know each other?" he asked.

Julian said nothing.

Serena answered for them both. "Not yet," she whispered, and said no more.

The sound of the woman's voice startled Julian back to his senses. He mastered himself with speed and turned his attention to Snape, ignoring both Snape's question and the woman who answered him. He was not fool enough to reveal his secrets so soon.

Snape decided to let the issue drop. There were more important things to attend to at the moment – securing the seer for the night, for one, and then... "Where are Clayworth and Rukin?" Snape asked.

"In the kitchen," Julian answered.

Snape glanced over Julian's shoulder. He caught a glimpse of Rukin through the doorway. "I'll show Miss Halliwell to her room," he said to Julian, "then we'll talk."

Julian nodded and watched as Snape led the woman up the stairs. A less observant man might have thought the seer was under the Imperious curse, for despite the obvious danger, she made no effort to resist.

* * *

The second floor had only three rooms, two bedrooms and a bath connecting them. Snape opened the door to the right. "Your room," he said, and pushed Serena not too gently through the door.

Serena could feel the powerful magic pulsing in the walls when she stepped across the threshold. The wards were strong, full of dark magic. She would not be able to break them – even if she had her wand in hand. It was impressive work. She wondered briefly if Snape had cast the spells himself.

The crushing strength of the wards was rather at odds with the room's decor. The high ceiling made the space feel large, open. The antique furniture was elegant and well preserved. The warm colors were inviting. A large window with a cushioned sill overlooked the sea. It really was a beautiful summer house, one any wizard would envy.

"Such a lovely prison," Serena said, her gaze drawn to the window. "I like the view." She seated herself on the window seat and laid a hand on the glass, quite certain it would not break should she pound on it with her fists.

"Julian will be pleased to hear it," Snape replied evenly.

The woman did not respond. She merely continued to gaze out the window. It was just as well. Snape was too tired to deal with her at the moment. He needed time to decide his next move. There was one order, of course, that he had to carry out before he could move to the next stage of the plan. It had troubled him little until the seer opened her mouth.

_Pity_. The very idea disgusted him, and the emotion burst forth in a fountain of rage. _You wouldn't pity them if you'd resisted. _Snape was certain of that, he was certain, too, that for all the power this seer might possess, she was no match for anyone who truly wished her harm. Yes. She was the kind of target so many of the Death Eaters enjoyed - powerful enough to put up a fight, weak enough to be defeated, and beautiful enough to enjoy breaking._ And they would've broken you, and enjoyed every whimper, every cry, every ounce of pain they wrung from your body before you died._

Serena shifted her gaze from the sea back to Snape, her expression thoughtful. "You enjoyed killing too … once," she said in answer to his thoughts.

Snape was startled by more than the seer's words. Not only had she replied to that which he had not spoken, but she had read his thoughts without looking into his eyes, without casting a single spell. Snape instantly erected the walls he used to keep the Dark Lord out of the secret corners of his mind. He had not considered the effort necessary before now, but it appeared he would need to guard his thoughts in this witch's presence at all times.

In control of his faculties once more, he considered her words. They were not an accusation – merely a statement of truth. She was right. There had been a time when he enjoyed killing for the Dark Lord … "And sometimes I still do," he said aloud before turning to the door.

"Is that why you hate them so much," she asked, unable to see the answer with Snape's defenses raised, "because they remind you of yourself – when you were young and desired power?"

Snape hesitated a moment on the threshold, then he closed the door without answering. The question, however, followed him all the way down the stairs.

* * *

When Snape arrived in the kitchen the three men fell silent, waiting for him to begin. "I think this calls for a drink," he said after a moment of silent anticipation. He opened a small cabinet above the sink and pulled out four glasses. Drawing a flask from his front pocket, he filled each one with firewhiskey. He placed the glasses in front of the others before taking a seat at the table.

Snape lifted his glass. "To the Dark Lord," he proclaimed.

"The Dark Lord," the others echoed.

Snape drank deeply, savoring the heat that burned his throat. The pain centered him. The others did the same, but Julian drank only after he watched Snape swallow. Rukin drained his glass in one swig, but Clayworth drank more slowly. He was not a fan of Old Ogden's.

"Are you going to tell us what happens next, Snape?" Clayworth asked, eyeing the elder wizard with displeasure. "I think we've been more than patient."

"Yes," Rukin said with anticipation. "What'll we do with the little bitch now?" He seemed to have more than a few ideas in mind.

Snape finished his drink and then poured himself another. "_We_ are not going to do anything," he told them.

Before either man could question Snape's meaning, Rukin fell from his chair as a violent convulsion took control of his body. Clayworth, panicked, clambered to his feet and nearly managed to draw his wand before his legs gave out and he, too, began to spasm violently on the floor. The tremors that wracked their bodies drew terrible screams from the two young Death Eaters. Their cries grew louder and louder until the blood and bile that poured out their mouths choked them silent.

Snape, all the while, merely sat and watched. And when Clayworth clutched at Snape's ankle, he kicked the man's hand aside.

Julian sprang from his chair as soon as Rukin went down, and for a brief moment, he believed the end had come for him as well. But a second later Clayworth crumbled, while Julian remained unharmed. His eyes flew to Snape, who merely sat in his chair, watching the two men die with a mingled expression of disgust and pleasure. Julian knew then that death had spared him this round. His gaze moved from Snape to his victims. It took all of Julian's strength to block their pain and terror from his mind**. **

When the men's cries had long since ceased, and they lay dead and twisted on the floor, Julian rediscovered his ability to speak. "Remind me never to accept a drink from your hand again." He did not take his eyes off the Death Eater's bodies when he said this.

"Will you _require_ reminding?" Snape asked. He seemed mildly amused by the thought.

Julian studied Snape, who had remained unaffected by the carnage he wrought. Not that this should have surprised him. It would take more than the deaths of two disposable villains to shake a man with so much blood on his hands.

"Is this the death I have to look forward to, when my part in this task is done?" He asked the question only half in jest.

"Don't be absurd, Julian. We're old friends," Snape replied, then finished what remained in his glass. "If I have to kill you, you'll be dead before you can scream." He took out his wand and with a wave two of the four glasses on the table vanished.

Snape's answer was weighted heavily by sarcasm, but beneath his dark humor, was the promise of a swift and painless death. In these dark times, that was the best any wizard could hope for.

"How very thoughtful of you," Julian said, and meant it.

* * *

_**A/N:** Not sure how I like this chapter. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Serena tried to focus her thoughts on the night sky, the dark waters, the waves crashing upon the sand – anything but their screams. She inhaled slowly, deeply, and exhaled the same way. Did the cries echo from below, or from within her own mind? It was difficult to tell. This time, the source of the suffering was so close. If she desired, she could reach out and touch them. She didn't.

If they had been innocent she would have reached out, shielded their minds while their bodies suffered. At the very least, she would have _tried_. But they were not innocent - no, she was not that naïve. How could she be? Serena had seen their cruelty, in dark visions that invaded her dreams. More than once, a stab of terror struck her before waking. The terror was never hers, it always belonged to another. And when the paralyzing fear released its hold, she knew its source was no more.

The men who cried out in agony this night were guilty, and part of her believed their torment a fair punishment for their evils deeds. Justice, some would say. But it was difficult for Serena to agree. Those who too often handed down mortal judgment did not suffer as she suffered. It is one matter to sentence a criminal to death, very different to feel every moment of his torment until he draws his final, shuttering breath.

Severus Snape, tonight's executioner, possessed the power to close off his mind, steel his soul against his victims' pain. She envied him. If only it were so easy for her to block out their cries and shield _her _mind from their pain. Then perhaps, she, too, could laugh in their faces while they died.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Just a short perspective. Next full chapter up soon._


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Severus levitated the Death Eaters' bodies through the back door and out into the yard before incinerating them. Julian took care of the kitchen floor. Severus had little trouble with his task, but Julian had never been very adept at cleaning charms, for he rarely had occasion to use them. It took three attempts to remove the blood and other fluids from the tile grout. Still, cleaning the floor was preferable to inhaling the charred ashes of the dead.

When Snape returned from the yard, Julian was already done. Severus took up his glass and gestured for Julian to follow him into the living room. He seated himself in a large, leather wing chair and poured another drink. Julian sat down opposite Snape. He had a dozen questions running through his mind, but was not overeager to begin. He opened their conversation with the simplest one.

"Who is she?"

Snape swirled the liquid in his glass in a meditative fashion. "Don't you know?" he asked, not having forgotten for a moment the strange way the woman greeted Julian, nor Julian's reaction upon seeing her.

"No," Julian replied evenly, offering him nothing.

It was clear that Snape did not believe him, but he said no more on the subject. "Her name is Serena Halliwell," Snape told him, "she's a seer."

"Halliwell," Julian repeated. It was a fairly common wizard surname. The clan was based mostly out of Lancashire. "Pureblood, then?" he asked.

"Ten generations or more," Snape confirmed. He fixed Julian with a penetrating gaze, attempting to read his thoughts – to no avail. Like Snape, all of the Malfoys were practiced occlumens. He was not likely to pick up any secrets by looking the man in the eye, but it never hurt to try. All he had to do was find a way to shake Julian's control, open a window to peek through. "You know, I think she was expecting _you_ to collect her this evening."

A lesser man would have shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the statement. Julian, however, remained physically relaxed despite the tension he felt within. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"When I found her, she told me she was expecting someone else, and she greeted you rather strangely when we arrived."

"Well, you _said_ she's a seer," Julian noted dismissively, "maybe she saw me in a dream." The second part slipped from Julian's lips before he thought better of it. Not that the comment mattered much. It was probably no more than what Severus himself suspected. Impatient to get to the heart of the matter, Julian asked: "Why are we here, Severus, what is this all about?"

Snape smiled. They had come to it at last – the unveiling. Snape reached into his pocket and withdrew a carefully rolled scroll. He passed the parchment to Julian.

Julian schooled his features into a blank mask before unraveling the scroll. There was no telling what he might find within. His heart nearly stopped upon reading the title. He felt suddenly quite ill and was never more thankful that his father had demanded he and Lucius learn occulmency.

"_Lucidus Visum_," Julian read the title aloud before turning his eyes on Snape. "Do you know what this parchment contains?" It was a silly question to ask. Snape was a potions master, after all.

"Do _you_?" was his friend's quick retort.

Julian sneered. "You think you're the only one who's studied the dark arts?"

"Of course not," Snape replied. "But it _is _an obscure potion."

"To some," Julian added, grateful again for his father's constant lectures in dark magic. "My father would've sold half his estate for this little piece of paper." Julian continued to study the parchment in greater detail. "Are you certain the potion is genuine?" he asked. "It looks like a copy."

"It is," Snape replied. He had not been able to take the original into his possession. "The Dark Lord would not allow the original to leave his sight."

Julian nodded, then rolled the paper back up and passed it back to Severus. "You know," he began conversationally," that potion is supposed to allow a diviner to see anything, anywhere … even the thoughts of an occlumen."

Snape was well aware of that fact and it worried him more than he cared to admit. "Do you have something to hide, Julian?" Snape asked.

Julian laughed at the other man's swift retort. "We _all_ have something to hide, Severus."

A tiny smile curled Snape's lips. "Quite true," he replied. It was a simple fact that any Death Eater who lived long enough had secrets, some more precious – or deadly – than others. "And Miss Halliwell appears capable of reading minds without the use of spells or potions. She did it earlier," Snape paused, thinking back to the incident that couldn't have happened more than half an hour earlier. "I don't even think she was trying."

"I'll keep that in mind," Julian replied, but Snape was barely paying attention. He seemed distracted. "What's wrong? You seem a bit more troubled about her than you've let on."

The entire experience was quite troubling, and for more reasons than the obvious. "She was the last on our list of targets. The others had prophecies submitted to the Department of Mysteries, many confirmed. They had taken divination, studied under other great seers. I drew her name from the mind of one who refused to join us. She was not on the Ministry list, has no prophecies recorded and has never trained in divination."

If it was possible, Julian grew even more ill at ease. Snape might very well have been describing _him_ with that particular critique. If what Snape said was true, it could mean one of several things – the most likely of which was that Miss Halliwell was too powerful and too smart to put her name on any Ministry list.

"They say true seers are born, not made," Julian uttered quietly. Snape's features remained schooled, but he sat stiffly, clearly uncomfortable with the statement he had made. "She surprised you," Julian said, guessing the cause of his friend's unease.

"I don't like surprises," Snape grumbled.

"Nor do I," Julian agreed. He glanced at the stairway absently. It was time to press his luck. "Do you know why he wants a seer now? Is it Potter?"

Snape's features darkened. "He hasn't yet revealed his intentions, but he will soon. He wants the potion ready by next week."

"Next week?" Julian's eyes widened in surprise. "That's quite a list of ingredients. Most can't be picked up from the corner alchemist."

Snape shrugged. "Between the two of us I don't think we'll have any trouble. Your family is well connected and I have additional resources of my own."

Julian nodded, he had expected a shopping trip would be in order the moment Snape handed him the parchment. "I assume you'll be working here and keeping Miss Halliwell company – or do you expect me to play warden? You _are_ otherwise unemployed at the moment, what with Dumbledore's demise." Julian let the statement hang in the air. It was clearly an invitation for Snape to add some additional detail.

Snape ignored the not-so-subtle prod for information. He did, however, answer the question. "I am, for the moment," Snape said, "but things are moving quickly. I may find myself back at Hogwarts very soon."

"Of course," Julian replied. There was no question that the Dark Lord would seize control of the school as swiftly as he could, and there was only one man Voldemort would trust to run it. "Is there anything else I can get you while I'm out?"

Snape thought carefully for a moment, before adding: "A house elf would be handy, if you have one to spare."

Julian grinned. "Would you like the key to my vault at Gringotts, as well?"

"That will be all for now," Snape replied with a wave of his hand. "When we have the ingredients I'll have further instructions."

"Shall we call it a night then?" Julian asked, standing. "I have a meeting at the Ministry tomorrow morning."

Snape dismissed the other man with a nod. "Say hello to the Minister for me," he said as Julian made for the door.

Julian smiled at the thought, but passing the staircase, his expression quickly sobered. He turned back to Snape, who sat nursing his drink. It was the fourth glass of firewhiskey Severus had consumed this night, which spoke volumes concerning the man's state of mind. "Have you considered that he might use her to spy on his _servants_, as well as his enemies?"

Snape's gaze lifted from his drink to the stairs. "The thought had … occurred to me," he said.

"Not a very pleasant possibility," Julian added.

"No," Snape replied darkly, "not pleasant at all."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Sorry for the wait. I just bought a house and am ripping up floors and walls. I'll be updating when I can. Put this fic on alerts if you want to know as soon as updates are loaded. _


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Snape awoke to the smell of bacon. For a moment he thought it a dream, but as his senses sharpened, he knew he was not mistaken. He sprang from his bed, wand in hand. _She could not have gotten out, _was his first thought. Quickly throwing on a shirt and slipping on his shoes he went to the bedroom door. There, in rapid succession, he cast a series of spells. There was no telling what lay on the other side. The spells said there was nothing, so he opened the door. The seer's door stood opposite and he lifted a hand, feeling the strong wards he had placed on it the night before. All appeared well. So why could he smell bacon? Snape descended the stair, silencing his steps along the way. His wand at the ready, he moved to the kitchen door…

Snape lowered his wand. A wave of relief combined with utter annoyance washed over him. It was only the house elf Julian had promised him, shuffling along with its chores. The tiny creature looked up when Snape entered. It did not look overly pleased to see him.

"Master Snape, sir," the house elf bowed, but only slightly. "I is Slinky, sir. Master Malfoy sent me to care for his guests. He says Slinky is to follow your commands."

Snape took a seat at the table and found his coffee already prepared – exactly how he liked it. "All of my commands?" he asked the elf, knowing Julian would never be foolish enough to go that far.

His suspicion was confirmed by the elf's answer. "No sir, Slinky is to follow any commands that do not endanger Master Julian's life or property." The elf lifted his chin, as if daring Snape to give him an order that would harm his master.

Snape found Slinky's tight words and assertiveness disconcerting. House elves, with the exception of Kreacher, were never cheeky with wizards and Snape doubted Julian would tolerate even the subtlest hint of defiance in his staff. There was only one explanation for the elf's behavior.

"Do you dislike me, Slinky?" he asked. "And I command you to answer truthfully."

The house elf's face tightened. "Slinky has not worked for Master Snape long enough to know if Slinky dislikes him," he replied.

Snape smiled, genuinely amused by the elf's attempt at deception. "You play at words, much like the Malfoys," he said, "but you haven't answered my question. How about this one – do you _hate _me?"

At this question the tiny creature began to vibrate. He clenched his teeth, his jaw trembled slightly before he cried out: "_Yeeees!_" A split second after the answer was given Slinky grabbed the frying pan he had been cleaning and began to clobber himself over the head with it.

Snape sprang instantly from his chair, seizing the frying pan to stop him, but the little elf refused to let go. He simply hung in the air, clutching at the handle. "There is no need for that, Slinky," he told the elf. "I was merely curious. You've done nothing wrong."

The elf stared up at Snape, still refusing to let go.

"Release the handle, Slinky," Snape said, "and I order you not to punish yourself again." Slinky relinquished his hold immediately, a baffled look on his face as he continued to stare at Snape.

Severus laid the pan on the stove and returned to his seat. He proceeded to serve himself the eggs and bacon that Slinky had prepared for him. From the corner of his eye he could see that Slinky had not moved. The little elf was studying him with a curious look in his eye. "Why do you hate me, Slinky?" Snape asked, though he was certain he knew the answer already.

Free of the fear of punishment, at least for the moment, Slinky answered directly. "The Hogwarts elves say Severus Snape killed Dumbledore."

Snape nodded curtly, it was just as he had suspected. He regarded the elf curiously. "I can understand the Hogwarts elves being angry with me, Dumbledore was their master, but why do _you_ care what happened to him?"

Slinky looked offended by the very idea that he wouldn't care. "It was known by all house elves, sir, that one could always find a place at Hogwarts – if an elf had been given clothes, or he was too old, or his Master wanted him no more."

Snape considered the elf's answer – it seemed reasonable enough. "Is that the whole reason?" he pressed.

Slinky hesitated a moment, unsure how his new master would respond to the answer. "Hogwarts elves always said Master Snape was a good master, a kind master, never yelled at elves – never punished them. They said he took care of them and the school and the students and Dumbledore."

"And I betrayed them all," Snape concluded.

Slinky nodded. "That is what they say now."

Snape lifted a hand to his forehead. It was far too early in the day for a migraine. "That will complicate things," he sighed. "I would rather face the Dark Lord's wrath than an army of angry house elves."

"Face them, sir?" Slinky asked.

"Never mind," Snape lifted his fork to begin the meal he no longer felt like eating.

"Should Slinky bring Mistress Halliwell her food now, sir?" Slinky asked.

Snape shook his head. He needed to confront the woman again now that he knew what he was dealing with, and sooner was always better than later. "No," he said. "I will deliver it."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Quick update because I was stuck in a room with no internet and nothing to do for 4 hours – and because I love house elves. I would have totally joined S.P.E.W.!  
_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Snape lowered the wards on the seer's door while balancing an overfilled breakfast tray in his left hand. He felt vaguely ridiculous and briefly considered calling for Slinky to carry the tray. He brushed the idea aside quickly. There was no need for the house elf to see how uncomfortable the seer made him. He opened the door with a wave of his wand and found the seer curled up in the window seat in nearly the same position he'd left her the night before. A blanket, found previously at the foot of the bed, hung around her shoulders. The bed was untouched. She had slept by the window all night.

Serena heard the door creak and opened her eyes. Severus Snape stood in the doorway holding his wand and a tray of food. She could not read his expression, but his eyes took in her present location and the unrumpled bed linens. The sight of Snape and the memory of the previous night made her feel momentarily ill. She choked back the bile that threatened to rise.

Snape closed the door and crossed the room to where Serena sat. The eyes that followed his movements were filled with disgust. There was no reason to ask why.

Serena looked up into Snape's impassive face. A wave of anger swept over her. "They didn't have to die like that."

Snape's eyes widened slightly at the accusation, but he took no offense. She was correct, of course. "No," he replied, "they didn't."

"Then why?" Serena very nearly shouted.

Snape was genuinely startled by the woman's anger. She had been so calm, so unconcerned the previous night. He could see now that her dark eyes were red from lack of sleep and her change in mood was drawn in the lines of her face. He smiled coldly. "If you're so curious to know my reasons, why don't you read my mind again?"

Serena's lips curled into a sneer that rivaled Snape's. She resented the accusation that _she_ had done something wrong. "I didn't _read_ anything. You're thoughts were so loud they were impossible to ignore!"

Snape searched the woman's face for any sign of deception. He found none. That did not mean she was telling the truth, of course. He let it go, accepting, for the moment, that he might be the one to blame for letting his thoughts slip. He placed the tray he still carried on the seat before her.

"Your breakfast," he said dryly.

Serena looked down at the tray. It was the type of meal only a house elf could prepare. Every item, one of her favorites, prepared exactly how she liked it. The meal smelled delicious, but she could not imagine eating a bite. "I don't feel much like eating."

"Eat anyway," Snape replied.

"Or what, " she pushed the tray away in defiance, "you'll force feed me?"

"The Imperious curse would be sufficient, I think," he replied evenly, but the threat missed its mark.

Serena laughed in his face. "Now there's a headline: '_Death Eater uses dark arts to make woman eat breakfast'_. Not really much of a threat, Severus, and besides, you can't use magic on me." They both knew it. For Snape's potion to work, the seer could not be touched or influenced by any other magic. Serena turned away from Snape, letting him know exactly what she thought of his idle threats.

Snape's temper was short at the best of times, and the last few weeks had done nothing to improve his mood. The seer's insolent and dismissive tone grated, and anger moved his hand. He grabbed a handful of Serena's hair and jerked her head back, forcing her to face him and lifting her off the seat as he did. "I don't need magic to persuade you," he growled, her face now mere inches from his.

Serena's hand flew to Snape's wrist, but there was no pretending she could break his hold by simple force. She had not been prepared for his violent reply, and her neck paid dearly for her stupidity. She met his angry eyes with a calm, steady gaze that only served to fuel his fury. She could see his mind, as Snape's outburst had weakened his psychic defenses. Serena understood instantly where the violence came from, though Snape, himself, was unaware.

"Maybe not," she said softly, "but you never found the alternative very appealing."

A memory from Snape's childhood rose to the forefront of his mind – an image of Tobias threatening his mother, dragging her around the house by her hair like a doll.

The memory struck hard and Snape instantly released his hold on Serena. He did not know if the seer was responsible for drawing out that particular memory, or if it had been there in the background all along. He looked down at his traitorous hand. It bore an imprint of the seer's nails where she'd clutched at his wrist. He had made no conscious decision to attack her. It had been an instinctive response - and the thought sickened him. There were, after all, many people in this life who Snape despised, and his father was at the very top of the list.

Snape backed away from the seer, wrapping a veneer of indifference around him like a shield. "We'll see," he replied, then turned to the door, eager to forget the seer and his father and begin the day anew.

Serena rubbed her neck and continued to watch Snape out the corner of her eye. She knew she had struck a painful blow. Serena's aching scalp would heal, while her assailant's childhood scars would haunt him forever. Snape growled at her, then turned to leave, but Serena was not done. There was more she had to say, things Snape needed to hear.

"Voldemort is close to winning this war," she called to Snape before he could make good his escape, "but it's not too late to stop him."

He turned, eying the woman warily. "What makes you think I want that?"

Serena ignored the question. There was no time to play games. "I brought something for you," she said. From the folds of her blanket she pulled a book and held it out to Snape.

Snape moved a step closer and took the book from her hands. He turned it around so he could read the title – _More than Shadows: A Treatise on Visions, Prophecies and the Art of Divination_. There was no author listed, and the tome appeared to be old, very old, bound and preserved by powerful magic.

"It might prove useful," she added, as he flipped through the book's pages.

Snape said nothing, but his thoughts reeled. He had no idea what information the book contained, but he would bet his life that the seer brought it with her for a reason. He turned back to the door, taking the book with him. Snape had a lot of planning to do and one important task he'd been dreading since that night on the astronomy tower. Maybe he would wait a little longer – until he tested the potion and knew whether its power was truly something to fear.

Snape was reaching for the door knob when Serena's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Will you give a message to Dumbledore for me?" she asked.

Snape felt like he had just been punched in the stomach. This time he _knew _his thoughts had been guarded. There was no way she could know what he had been thinking. Snape turned back to her, keeping his voice and expression a perfect, unreadable mask.

"Dumbledore is dead," he replied.

Serena sighed. She truly found Snape tiring at times. "I'm aware of that," she said, and without waiting for the sarcastic retort that was sure to follow, added: "Tell him – _I know_."

Snape's brow arched in response to the seer's words. "Know _what_, exactly?"

Serena weighed her words carefully before she replied. "Everything – or at least – everything he refused to tell you. And unless one of you comes up with a plan soon, Voldemort will know everything, too."

When Serena was certain Severus understood the gravity of her confession, she returned her attention to the window and the rising sun.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Julian spent the next morning arranging his escape, or more accurately, an escape for Draco, Narcissa and himself, should they require it. When all was prepared he took out a piece of parchment and drafted a letter to Narcissa. It was not the first time Julian had been thankful that the Malfoys never aired family disagreements. He composed a warm letter containing all the details Narcissa required. There was no need to get too cryptic, as Julian was only guarding against casual readers.

_Dearest Narcissa, _

_In hopes of lifting your spirits during these trying times, I have arranged a nice vacation for both you and Draco, should you need some time away from the spotlight of the Ministry and their unfounded accusations against my brother, your husband. You are free to take me up on the offer at any time as I am ever at your disposal. I am also sending along a small token I picked up during my latest trip to Venice and a little something for Draco as well. Wear them always, and think of me. _

_Your loving brother, _

_Julian_

He slipped an antique brooch into the envelope along with an emerald ring bearing a serpent design on the band. The gifts were cleverly disguised portkeys that would activate only for their intended wearer and only if they wanted to flee. It was old family magic, passed down through the centuries, and was a major factor in the Malfoys' legendary knack for evading their enemies. Too bad Lucius never took the time to study all the old family secrets. He was forever taking what _he_ thought useful and discarding the rest. _Lucius would never run, after all – _or so he had told his younger brother. Such was Lucius, always thinking of himself, never of the people who depended on him. Julian had no wife or child, but one could be damn sure that had their fates been reversed, _Julian _would not have joined up with a madman and left his family with no possible means of escape.

Julian's falcon, Soren, sat patiently while he tied the package to his harness and released him from the window. He watched the bird disappear from sight before turning his attention to the parchment on his desk which Snape had flooed him several hours earlier. It was his portion of the shopping list. Julian stood and walked to the office fireplace. He took a handful of floo powder and threw it into the hearth.

"Virgil," Julian said, and stuck his head into the fire, "I need you."

Moments later a man appeared from out the flames. He was tall and thin with an oily appearance that one commonly associated with disreputable characters. "Mister Malfoy," Virgil gave a small bow, "always a pleasure. How may I be of service today?"

Julian was always impressed by the Knockturn Alley denizen's effortless toadying. "I am in need of some hard-to-find items," Julian said and handed the list over to his guest.

Virgil scanned the list quickly and gave Julian a conspiratorial smile. He had no idea what the ingredients were for, nor did he care. His job was merely to provide the goods to willing patrons. He never asked questions, and for that reason, wizards with a penchant for the Dark Arts were more than willing to deal with him. It was a win-win situation all around.

"Why, I don't think we'll have any problems," he said. "I should have your order ready in a day or two."

Julian's eyes widened in surprise. "So quickly?"

An unpleasant grin spread across Virgil's face at the question. "The _unstable _political climate has been a blessing for businessmen like myself," he explained. "The Ministry is, as I'm sure you're aware, occupied with more important matters."

"I see," Julian replied with a nod. "Well then, you know how to contact me."

"Of course," Virgil replied, "have a pleasant day." He stepped back through the flames and vanished.

Julian was glad to be rid of him. He had been hoping for more time but that seemed unlikely now. Julian sank into his chair and sighed. One never knew, he could get lucky and Virgil could be killed in the next few hours. He could only hope.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Virgil didn't die. And he was as good as his word, contacting Julian late the following afternoon with his order in hand. He received an owl not long after from Snape. The Dark Lord wished to see them both – tonight. Julian was less than thrilled at the prospect. He worked late into the evening, later, perhaps than was absolutely necessary. When he could find no reason to linger in his office, he packed his briefcase and apparated home. He ate dinner alone. Slinky would no doubt have been elated had he chosen to dine with Severus, but he had no desire to discuss business over dinner. When he was through with his meal, he gathered the supplies he'd been ordered to retrieve, and apparated directly to the cottage.

He found Snape inside, picking at his dinner. The Death Eater wore a dark, brooding expression that did not bode well for his mood. His attention was rapt on a book that lay open on the table beside him. Julian cleared his throat, an unnecessary gesture as his companion was undoubtedly aware of his presence.

"Some light reading," Julian asked, glancing down at the open pages, "on divination?"

Snape looked up from his reading. "The seer brought it with her."

"And you confiscated it?" Julian asked.

"She gave it to me," Snape replied.

Amusement lit Julian's eyes. "Friends already?" he asked, but Snape ignored him. Julian laid the package he received from Virgil on the kitchen table. "Your ingredients."

Snape's eyes flew to the package. He was more than a little surprised. "Your suppliers are … timely," he said.

"They live to serve," Julian replied.

A loud popping sound interrupted what was certain to be some manner of sarcastic reply. Slinky appeared, looking up at Julian with an expression of utter devotion. "Master Malfoy, such a pleasure it is. Can Slinky get Master something to eat?"

Julian smiled kindly down at his loyal house elf. "No thank you, Slinky. I ate before I arrived."

The elf was crestfallen, but recovered quickly. He was eager to show his master what a fine job he was doing. He turned quickly to Snape. "Does Master Snape require anything else, sir?"

Snape shook his head and the house elf turned away from the wizards to the kitchen stove. He lifted a tray piled high with food. "Slinky will deliver Mistress Halliwell's dinner, then."

He was about to disapparate, but Julian halted the elf with a raised hand. "Wait Slinky," he said. "I'll deliver it."

Snape leaned back in his chair. He eyed Julian with suspicion. "How very generous of you, Julian," he sneered.

"Not exactly," Julian replied with a casual smile. "I'm just hoping she'll have a gift for me as well. After all, I'm far more likable than you."

Severus snorted, but said nothing more. He could not keep Julian from meeting the seer forever and was more than curious to know what he would think of her.

Julian took the tray from Slinky's hands and made his way carefully up the stairs. He spent those all too brief moments between the kitchen and the witch's door quieting his thoughts. He reached the door and found it heavily warded. Julian kicked himself for not realizing Snape would have locked her up tight.

"Slinky," Julian said in a low voice and the house elf appeared beside him instantly.

"Yes, Master Julian?"

"Lower the wards," Julian commanded.

"Of course, sir," Slinky lifted his hand and Julian felt the magic upon the door fade away.

"Thank you, Slinky." Julian smiled. "You may go."

The elf disappeared with a pop and Julian opened the door.

Serena jumped at the sound of the doorknob turning. The house elf Slinky merely popped in and out to deliver her meals. Only Severus used the door, and she had not seen him since the previous morning. She was vaguely startled by the appearance of Julian in the doorway. She did not expect a blond haired man to come calling.

Julian spotted the woman reading by the window. "Good evening," he said, aware by her expression that his presence was unexpected. "I'm Julian Malfoy," he said with a cordial smile, "and this is your dinner." He lifted the tray up slightly before placing it on the small bedside table.

"Where is Severus?" Serena asked.

Julian could not be sure, but he thought he heard concern in her voice. He wondered why. "Downstairs, reading the book you gave him," he replied. "Hasn't he come to visit you?"

Serena shook her head. "Not since yesterday morning."

"Ah," was Julian's reply. He glided casually across the room and seated himself at the opposite end of the large window seat. He admired the view for a moment before returning his attention to her.

Serena held Julian's gaze for a considerable length of time before speaking. "You're very good," she said at last.

Julian's brow rose in question. "Good at what?" he asked – not that he didn't appreciate praise, he merely liked to know what it was for.

"Silence," she replied, but when her explanation did not appear to satisfy, she added: "Severus can control his thoughts, lock them away, but if he lets down his guard … his thoughts rage like thunderclouds."

Julian knew exactly what she meant. He had spent half his life blocking out the thoughts of those around him. "Severus is a very gifted occlumen," he said, "but that isn't enough, not against a seer as powerful as you."

Serena did not miss his choice of words – 'you' he said, not 'us'. "He doesn't know you're a seer." It was not a question.

"No one _knows_," Julian replied, "a family policy, you might say."

Serena's expression grew troubled. The man sitting with her must have gone to a lot of trouble to keep such a secret from Voldemort and his Death Eaters. "I know," she whispered.

"Yes." Julian leaned back against the window frame, taking the measure of Serena. "You seem to know a lot of things, more than you should. Care to tell me why that is?"

Serena could not bear the weight of Julian's gaze -- or his question -- so she looked away. Her expression darkened with her thoughts. "So you can protect your family?"

Julian's eyes widened slightly at her question. She knew about Narcissa and Draco. He should not have been surprised. "And myself as well," he added with a smile. "I'm not completely selfless."

Julian waited, but the seer added nothing. He continued to watch her, but she continued to avoid his gaze. "I'll find out eventually," he proclaimed.

Serena turned to him then, knowing his words to be more than an idle threat. He was a seer, too, this wizard, and uncovering _her _secrets might well be within his power. If so, it would also be in his power to help them. "You have to help Snape."

The force behind her statement startled Julian, but he hid it well. "Help Snape?" He laughed humorlessly. "That's why I'm here."

Serena looked into Julian's eyes searching for something she was not certain was even there. "You have to _tell_ him," she pressed.

"Why," Julian's voice hardened, "or you will?"

Serena's eyes grew wide at Julian's accusation. "I wouldn't … I would never … not if I could help it."

"No?" Julian replied. He was surprised by her willingness to keep his secret. He couldn't say he would do the same in her position. "Then I'll hold you to it."

He stood then, and made his way to the door but turned back to her before opening it. Her eyes were still upon him. "I saw you in a vision several days ago," he told her. "You called me by name, told me the war would be over soon."

A confused expression spread across Serena's face. She had seen this Julian Malfoy before, in snatches of dreams and visions, but she was certain she had never spoken to him before this night. "I don't," she said, "I didn't."

"It was you," Julian repeated with force.

Serena shook her head, certain that he was mistaken.

Julian marked the woman's confusion. It appeared quite genuine. "Well then, maybe you aren't all knowing after all. Severus will surely be pleased."

Julian turned his back on the seer and opened the door – and found himself face to face with the Dark Lord.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Voldemort was the last person Julian had expected to see when he opened the bedroom door. A wave of terror passed through him and his heart pounded fiercely in his chest. The words _'My Lord'_ were nearly past his lips – when the figure vanished. Julian stood in the doorway, staring now at the empty space between himself and the opposite wall. There was no one there.

"He will test you, tonight," Serena whispered, a tremor in her voice revealing her fear.

Julian spun around to face the woman once more. She stared past him, through the doorway, at the very spot where the phantom Voldemort had appeared. There was no way for Julian to know if the vision had been his own, or something _she_ had projected.

"What kind of test?" Julian asked.

Serena's expression darkened. She shook her head. "I don't know."

Her answer did little to comfort Julian. He turned away from Serena, walked out the door and shut it behind him. The wards reformed automatically – or perhaps it was Slinky's doing. Julian really didn't care, but he did feel the magic push him away from the door, and he was thankful for the momentum. He took his time reaching the end of the hall and descending the old wooden stairs. He didn't want Severus to see him shaken, so he tried to pull himself together. He didn't quite succeed.

"Did you enjoy your little chat?" Severus asked when Julian reappeared in the kitchen door. It was clear that Julian was unsettled and it brought Snape a small measure of satisfaction.

"She's a strange one," Julian replied in his best attempt at indifference.

Snape was not fooled, but he said nothing. He didn't have the chance. At that precise moment a searing pain burned through him. He grimaced, and rising from his place at the table, laid his book aside. He took a controlled breath and exhaled every thought and emotion that might betray him to the Dark Lord.

Julian did the same. "I believe that's our invitation," he said.

"Indeed. Let's not keep our master waiting," Snape replied.

The two wizards vanished on the spot. They reappeared at the gate to Malfoy Manor.

Julian's chest tightened and he felt his stomach turn. _'A test,'_ she'd said. He was about to discover what that test would be – if he could will his legs into motion.

"Shall we?" Snape said. He too, was unnerved by Voldemort's choice of meeting place, but he kept his concerns to himself.

Julian opened the gate, and as he did so, he was overwhelmed by a force more powerful than the house's wards – _guilt_. He glanced at Snape, and forgoing any pretense of casual conversation asked, "Where's Draco?"

Snape might have laughed had he not, too, been concerned for the youngest Malfoy. "You're asking me now," he sneered, "after all this time?"

The blow penetrated Julian's normally formidable armor. Lucius had asked him to protect his son, but he'd been so busy, so concerned with his own matters, that he hadn't made the time to locate Draco. At least he'd sent Narcissa the portkeys. He could only hope that they'd gotten to her in time.

"I've been busy," Julian snapped impatiently.

Snape nodded. It was the way of things. A wizard was always too busy to appreciate the important things in life – until it was too late. "He's with his mother," Snape replied.

Julian swallowed Snape's answer and said no more. The walk to the front door seemed to last forever. No sooner had they set foot on the top step, than the door opened before them. It was a neat little piece of magic Julian's grandfather had used to awe his guests. _'First impressions are the most important,' _he liked to say, but Julian always thought the door pretentious. He supposed it suited Lucius rather well.

They found the house far from empty. Yaxley stood in the hall and ushered them silently into the sitting room. The Dark Lord's inner circle was present, as well as several others standing here or there around the room. At its center stood Voldemort, and on his knees before him, was Lucius. Julian made a quick survey of the room. Narcissa stood with her sister opposite the door, an arm's length from Draco. The young man's face was a perfect mask.

_Good boy_.

There was one detail about the present situation that gave Julian a measure of comfort – both Draco and Narcissa wore the jewelry he'd sent them. They were ready for the worst. Julian hoped it was a needless precaution.

"Severus, Julian," Voldemort acknowledged his latest arrivals.

"My Lord," the men said in unison, bowing low.

Voldemort returned his gaze to the hunched figure at his feet. "It seems we're all here, ready to begin the celebration of your return from Azkaban. Are you ready to celebrate, Lucius?"

"I'm your humble servant," Lucius replied, his voice like gravel.

Voldemort's cackled cruelly. "Humble? You, Lucius? No, you've never been humble – but we will change that, won't we?"

Lucius continued to grovel as a good servant should. He knew it would not be enough to save him from Voldemort's wrath, but it couldn't hurt. "All that I have is yours, my Lord," he said, "at your disposal, to aid you in the war."

"How kind of you, Lucius," Voldemort sneered. "Of course, you've been of such great help to me this last year, revealing my plans to Dumbledore, relaxing in prison while others cleaned up your mess."

Julian could see his brother's shoulders stiffen. He was fighting down the instinct to argue. Julian willed his older brother to keep his pride leashed. It would do nothing but get them all killed.

"I have failed … in the past," Lucius said, choosing his words with utmost care, "but my loyalty has never wavered."

"Loyalty," Voldemort laughed, addressing the crowd. "I believe it is time to test the loyalty of the Malfoy family, don't you agree?"

There were nods and a reserved laughter from the assembled crowd.

Voldemort fixed his gaze on Julian, one of a handful who did not appear entertained. "And you Julian, who have been so helpful to me, unlike the rest of your kin – do you not wish to see your name made clean in my sight?"

Julian nodded, all the while keeping his face unreadable, his mind clear. "It is sad to see my father's house fallen so low," he replied. "I can only hope that we can redeem ourselves in your eyes."

"Indeed? You would do all in your power, then, to assist in the restoration of your good name?" Voldemort sounded only too pleased.

Julian steeled himself. There was only one correct answer. "I will do what I can," he said.

"We will see," he replied, then turned back to Lucius, who stared down at the carpet in front of him. "Time for your penance, Lucius. What shall it be? Do you have a favorite curse in mind, or perhaps we can come up with something more … creative?"

Laughter rose again from the crowd, freer this time. Even Bellatrix, who had been unusually quiet, began to cackle maniacally.

"Your punishment, Lucius. Are you ready?" Voldemort asked again.

"I am," he replied.

Voldemort smiled gleefully. "Then choose – your wife, or your son."

"I don't …" Lucius faltered, his gaze shifting to his brother before returning to the Dark Lord. "I don't understand."

Voldemort laughed, amused by the man's obvious distress. "Pain would be wasted on you, Lucius," he replied. "You must choose who will suffer in your place."

Lucius hadn't seen this coming. He should have, but somehow his fantasies had always unfolded one of two ways – all of them dying, or Lucius being punished for his crimes. There was never a third option when the scenarios played out in his mind. He should have known better. Lucius' gaze passed from his wife to his son and back again. Draco's expression was hard, unreadable, Narcissa decidedly less so. Her eyes spoke to him, pleaded with him. She took the choice out of his hands and made it hers.

"Well, Lucius, we don't have all day," Voldemort said, enjoying the wizard's suffering immensely.

Lucius took one shuttering breath before he gave Voldemort his answer. "Narcissa," he replied. "My wife will take my place."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Wow. It's been a long time since I updated. I think I posted 7 chapters of another story and 2 of a third since my last Shadows chapter, so I've been a little busy. I'll punch out the next couple chapters of this one before I switch gears again. _


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"No!"

All eyes flew to Draco, whose formerly cold expression twisted into a mask of pure rage. He stood in front of his mother, ready to tear Lucius apart … or worse.

_Damn it. _Julian cursed silently. He could not fault the boy for loving his mother, but now was not the time for such a display. Love and hate were two weaknesses the Dark Lord was more than happy to exploit.

A high, cruel laughter filled the room moments later. All eyes returned to Voldemort, his expression dark with amusement. "It appears Draco does not agree with your choice," he said to Lucius. "Such a recalcitrant child."

Narcissa stepped forward and laid a hand on her son's shoulder, but she could not move him. Julian knew he had to do something, but what that 'something' was he wasn't sure. Without bothering to calculate all the consequences of such an act, he reached out to Draco. His nephew's thoughts were a blur, chaotic. He touched Draco's mind, gently, so as not to startle him.

_Draco._

The young man's eyes registered nothing, but his gaze shifted from Lucius to Julian. Julian held him fast. _You only make things worse – for us, and your mother._

For a moment, Julian was not sure if he'd gotten through to Draco. The young man looked away from his uncle, and down at his father. Draco lifted his left hand and laid it on the one resting on his shoulder. Still glaring daggers at Lucius, he stepped aside, and allowed his mother to pass.

Voldemort addressed Narcissa when he next spoke. "There now, it seems your son has picked up a few manners." He turned then to Draco. "Don't worry, Draco. I'll have something for you later that I think you'll enjoy."

The Dark Lord's gaze swept across the room. He glided around the circle, pausing before Avery, Snape and finally, Julian. "This task falls to Julian, I should think. After all, he _is_ family."

And there it was, the 'test' Serena had spoken of. Julian had seen this moment coming since Voldemort presented Lucius with the choice. In the Dark Lord's mind, it was not enough for Lucius to suffer, not enough that he should be forced to choose. Voldemort intended to break their family before the night was over. Julian would hurt Narcissa, Voldemort would force his brother and nephew to watch, and in the end, the family would never trust one another again. It was a twisted game – and they all had to play their parts.

Julian stepped forward – one, slow, purposeful step at a time. He drew his wand and steeled himself. The fact of the matter was, he never really liked Narcissa. One would think that simple fact would make cursing her easier. It didn't. She might be an arrogant pureblood bitch, but she was family. Draco's mother, Lucius' wife. Julian knew his brother loved her – and that particular bit of knowledge burned. There was a time, not so long ago, when he would have considered the idea of Lucius loving _anyone_ completely absurd. But that day in Azkaban had changed things, changed the way Julian saw his brother – and _remembered_ his brother. Julian fought the flashes of memory which rose from the ether – tender moments between Lucius and Narcissa. Stolen moments Julian had witnessed when they thought themselves alone, and emotions he'd picked up on when their thoughts strayed. He fought, too, the anger and fear that began to cloud the room. Draco's anger, while contained, boiled right beneath the surface. Lucius forced his rage deeper and kept his eyes on the floor. He hadn't lifted them, even when Draco yelled. He didn't want to watch. Julian knew. But he would have to. He had no choice. The Dark Lord would not permit him to shut his eyes. Julian watched his brother breathe - in and out - steadying breaths to calm himself. Then Lucius lifted his eyes. He didn't look at his brother. His gaze was fixed on his wife. She ignored him, her focus on Julian alone.

Narcissa's fear, combined with her husband's and son's, threatened to overwhelm Julian. He could not let it in. Control was everything now. Control was the only thing that would keep them alive.

Julian held Narcissa's eye, and glanced briefly down at the brooch pinned to her lapel. She could use it now, the portkey. She and Draco could escape; flee from danger in a flash of light. But she shook her head, ever so slightly. She would not run. Not with Lucius' life hanging in the balance. Not when she could save him. It was a precious thing, that kind of loyalty. Lucius didn't deserve it. It angered Julian – that with all his cruelty and arrogance, Lucius knew such love. It wasn't fair. If the situation were reversed, there would be no one to suffer for Julian. He would have died, alone, just as he'd lived. It was a jealous thought, and it angered him. Yes, it angered him enough.

"Crucio!" he cried, holding onto the anger within, using it to fuel the spell.

Narcissa crumpled. She screamed. She screamed until her throat was ripped to shreds. Then she whimpered. There was laughter from some in the circle, smug smiles from others, and reserved watchfulness from the remaining few. The Malfoys were the only ones present who did not appear amused. The rage in Draco's eyes evaporated, leaving a blank, deadened stare as he watched his mother writhe on the parlor room floor. Lucius tried to mask his pain, but it would not be concealed. In another time, a different Lucius might have gazed upon this sight with cold indifference, but in another time, the woman screaming on the floor would not have been his wife.

When enough time had passed, Julian lifted the curse and Narcissa, freed from her torment, moaned incoherently. Her breath came in choked gasps and she coughed blood.

Voldemort was pleased with Julian and smiled pleasantly at him. "Well done, Julian, you have some talent with that curse. I underuse a wizard of your abilities."

Julian took what passed as a compliment with a small nod. He did not look at Narcissa, or his brother, or Draco.

Voldemort's gaze passed over the others in the circle. It landed on Snape, who stood a few feet to Julian's left. "Let's see now, who's next?"


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"Care for a turn, Severus?" Voldemort added, a devilish smile spread across his face.

Snape matched his master's cruel expression with his own. His gaze drifted to Narcissa and he wisely masked his survey of her condition with cold, hungry eyes. There was blood dripping from the corner of her mouth and she was close to unconsciousness which would make no difference to the Death Eaters under normal circumstances. If Narcissa were anyone else, they would continue their games until she was dead. But the Dark Lord didn't want her dead. At least, Snape didn't think so. If he was right, then it was possible to end this with the right choice of words. Now all he had to do was choose them.

"While I would greatly enjoy extending Lucius' punishment," Severus began, "I'm curious – is it your wish that we do Mrs. Malfoy _permanent_ damage?" Snape paused, considering Narcissa for a moment longer. "I only ask because I don't wish to overstep my bounds, and Julian seems to have been a bit too enthusiastic."

Voldemort studied the woman on the floor with a look of wry amusement. Snape came forward to stand beside Voldemort, the two of them surveying the damage Julian had done. The Dark Lord leaned close to Snape's ear. "Not accustomed to playing with his prey, is he?" he said. "It's a skill only a handful possess. Perhaps, during your work together, you will find time to instruct him."

"If that is my Lord's wish," Severus replied.

Voldemort was pleased with Snape's answer and stepped away. He circled Narcissa, who lay limp on the parlor floor. He would have liked to see her suffer a bit longer, but there was time enough for that. Besides, he had something even more special planned for Lucius. "I think Narcissa has had enough … for now."

There was a grumble of disappointment from two or three in the crowd. They hungered for blood and a bit of retribution for the times _they_ had suffered at Lucius' hands. There would be no opportunity for vengeance tonight, not by their hands, at least. But there _was_ a consolation prize.

"Draco," Voldemort turned to the pale youth and waved him forward.

Draco's expression was blank when he stepped away from the crowd. He didn't know what to expect from the Dark Lord, and was almost beyond caring.

"I don't want you to think I've forgotten you," Voldemort said. He laid a hand on Draco's shoulder and the young man flinched.

Julian drew in a quick breath. He'd been silent since Voldemort turned his attention to Snape. Julian was impressed with Severus' subtlety in dealing with their master. With a few well chosen words he'd managed to spare Narcissa further pain. His attempt could just as easily have backfired. It was a gamble he'd won. But there was nothing Julian or Snape could do to help Draco.

Voldemort gripped Draco's shoulder painfully, forcing him forward to stand before his father. Draco looked down at him, his former fury lighting in his eyes. Julian saw it, the Death Eaters saw it, and so did the Dark Lord.

"You want to curse your father, am I right?" Voldemort asked the question, despite the fact that all gathered knew the answer. "Shall we see if you can outdo your uncle?"

There was a baiting laughter from the crowd. Most didn't think Draco capable, despite his previous outburst. Julian knew better. He could taste his nephew's rage. It flooded the room, years of suppressed anger waiting to be unleashed.

Draco drew his wand. He did not hear the laughter that surrounded him. It was drowned out by the memory of his mother's screams. It was buried beneath a year of fear and uncertainty, when every move he made promised to be his last. He was furious with his father, furious at him for bringing this nightmare down on him, on his mother.

Lucius lifted his eyes. He thought, for a moment, to give his son permission to act, but when he saw the hate Draco directed at him, he knew his son needed no encouragement.

Draco was not moved by the emotion in his father's eyes. It only made him angrier. There was a time when he'd respected and feared his father, a time when he'd _trusted_ him, but no longer. Lucius had left them, alone, at the mercy of a madman. All Draco felt now for his father was anger, loathing, and betrayal.

He lifted his wand. "Crucio!"

Lucius wasn't prepared for the force of the spell. He would have crumpled to the floor, had he not already been on his knees. He screamed and writhed as his wife had mere moments before. It felt like he was being ripped apart. Lucius had suffered the Cruciatus curse before, but never like this. '_You have to mean it_,' his own father had always said. And Draco meant it. Lucius continued to cry out in agony as his son unleashed his rage, but the pain that tore through him was more than physical.

Draco waited until his father stopped screaming to lift the curse. His anger was not yet spent, but it was sated.

"Well done." Voldemort clapped his hands in praise. He moved to Draco's side and addressed Lucius who tried in vain to climb to his knees. "I think that more or less settles the matter, Lucius, at least for now. And in the spirit of your earlier offer, I'll be requiring your home for our use in the coming weeks. I'm sure you're more than happy to oblige."

Lucius gasped. "All … I have …"

"Is mine," Voldemort vanished for him. With that the Dark Lord vanished, leaving the room and his Death Eaters and the mansion behind.

It was up to Snape, as usual, to dismiss the Death Eaters. "Go," Snape said. It was a simple command that the assembly obeyed – for the most part.

Bellatrix was riled. It was her sister lying broken on the floor. This was _her_ family. _How dare Snape order her out the door? _But before she could open her mouth to argue, Rodolphus' hand came to rest on her arm in silent warning. He knew only too well that their standing with the Dark Lord was yet uncertain, and arguing with Snape would not improve matters.

"Let's go," he said.

There were few wizards who could speak to Bellatrix in such a manner and live. Rodolphus was one of them. Reluctantly, she allowed him to lead her from the mansion and they disappeared into the night.

When only the Malfoys remained, Snape knelt down beside Narcissa and lifted her limp body into his arms. He turned to Draco, whose gaze remained on his father. "Draco," he said. "Help me with your mother."

Draco turned to Snape. His eyes fell on his mother's ashen face. He paled slightly, then nodded, and followed Snape out of the room.

Julian dropped to one knee beside his brother. He draped Lucius' left arm around his shoulder and taking hold of him around the waist, lifted him off the floor. He almost expected Lucius to protest, and was surprised when his brother gripped him for support. Once steadied, they began the slow walk to Lucius' bedchamber – through the foyer, up the stairs and down the hall to the master suite. They walked in silence. Lucius was in too much pain to carry on a conversation, and Julian's focus was on navigating the stairs. If he'd been thinking more clearly, he might have used a levitation spell to carry Lucius to bed. He doubted his brother would have appreciated it – not that he had the strength to protest.

They made it to the second floor. Julian could hear Snape barking orders. He didn't know what Snape was doing, but he knew that if anyone could minimize the damage he'd done to Narcissa, it was Snape. The man always had a few tricks up his sleeves and a potion or two prepared for the inevitable rainy day. He heard Draco's voice too, sharp with fear.

They reached the door to the master suite. Lucius lifted his hand and the door opened for them. Julian carried him inside. He helped Lucius to the bed, and set him down on the comforter. Lucius leaned back onto the soft blanket and moaned. He was weak and in pain and could barely find the strength to lift his hand. He stared up at the ceiling, and upon looking at the familiar space, a realization came to him. He'd managed to survive the night with his family more or less intact. The 'more' was a damned miracle, the 'less' was cause for concern. He felt compelled to act, to hold Narcissa and speak with Draco, but he could barely keep his eyes open. It would have to wait – all of it. But he worried that the price of this night might be even greater if left till morning. A creaking sound from Lucius' left drew his attention. He turned his head and saw his brother staring at him from the leather chair. He appeared tired, as tired as Lucius felt, and just as thoughtful.

Now that the immediate danger to himself and his family had passed, Julian had the freedom to consider all that had happened. His first thoughts were of Lucius. He noted the effort it took for his brother to move his battered body. The damage Draco had done to him was great. What's more, the hate Draco used to fuel the spell was not some abstract emotion, it was solid and pure and directed entirely at his father.

"You told me once," Julian began, softly, "that Draco didn't have enough hate to cast that spell properly." He frowned then, remembering the power of his nephew's rage. "I guess you were wrong. Makes me glad I never had a son."

Lucius sighed painfully. "I need to talk to him," he said, and attempted to rise.

Julian jumped up from his seat and crossed quickly to his brother's side. He laid a hand on Lucius' shoulder and pushed him easily back down on the bed. "I don't think he's quite ready for that," Julian said, "and neither are you." He seated himself on the edge of the bed, looking down at his brother. Julian was not one to let his concern show, but now seemed an appropriate time to make an exception. Lucius really did look terrible and he was in no state to confront an angry boy with a Malfoy's talent for dark spells. "Wait until you're strong enough to defend yourself. Next time he might not be so gentle."

Lucius was silent for a long time as he stared up at his brother, pinned by the earnest expression on his face. He could not easily brush aside Julian's words of warning. Draco was angry, angrier than he'd ever seen him, and Julian was right – there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

"You said you'd protect them," Lucius said.

Julian's eyes narrowed in anger. "And I kept my word," he snapped. He wasn't going to let Lucius lay the blame for the night's events on him. "Narcissa and Draco are wearing portkeys disguised as jewelry. They could've fled to safety at any time. I guess they thought your life was more important than their safety."

Lucius exhaled deeply and shut his eyes tight. It was easier to believe that his family had had no choice but to suffer. It was a bitter pill, knowing they'd willingly suffered for him.

Julian could feel his brother's turmoil pouring off of him in waves. He patted Lucius awkwardly on the shoulder. The Malfoy clan was not known for physical displays. "Get some sleep, Lucius. There'll be time for blame later."

Lucius choked out a small laugh, and quickly regretted it. His lungs were still filled with blood and he coughed for more than a minute until his breathing was once again clear.

Julian waited until Lucius was breathing steadily again to speak. There was something else he wanted his brother to know, something he had to tell him before leaving. "I never really hated Narcissa. You know that, don't you?"

Lucius was still for a moment. He had been trying hard not to blame Julian for the pain his wife had suffered. After all, his brother had had no more choice in the matter than the rest of them. He reached out his hand slowly and rested it on Julian's arm. "I know."

Julian was surprised by his brother's uncharacteristic display of affection, but he made no mention of it. He waited a moment, and then pulled his arm away. "Sleep," he said, standing. "I'll check on your wife – and Draco."

Lucius closed his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered and a few moments later slipped into unconsciousness.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Narcissa was sleeping peacefully. Her face was pale and drawn but her breathing steady. Two open vials sat on the nightstand. Julian could not guess at their contents, but it was a comfort to know Snape had come prepared. The potion master sat at her bedside, waving his wand over her head and chest, his expression serious.

"How is she?" Julian asked.

Snape lowered his wand. "She'll heal," he replied.

Julian exhaled deeply, a large measure of the guilt he'd felt for cursing her lifted, but some of it would always remain. "I'm glad."

Snape's attention shifted from his patient to Julian. "I wasn't exaggerating when I spoke to the Dark Lord. You did more damage than was strictly necessary."

Julian closed his eyes and sighed. He was not as practiced as some with torture spells. "Yes, well, I always wanted to let Narcissa know what I thought of her."

The sarcasm in Julian's voice was not enough to mask his guilt. "And now she knows," Snape replied quietly, before his thoughts turned to another. "How is Lucius?"

"Unconscious," Julian replied. "Draco did a number on him." Julian glanced about the room, realizing for the first time that Draco was not present. "Where is he?"

"I believe he has retired for the evening," Snape replied.

"I should probably check on him," Julian replied.

Snape wasn't all too certain the young man would want to see Julian right now. But then again, Draco's anger had not appeared directed at his uncle. "What will you say to him?" Snape asked.

Julian was certain he heard concern in Snape's voice but he was too tired to wonder why. "Not sure," he replied. "Any advice?"

Snape did not answer immediately. Instead, he cast another spell on Narcissa. When he finished, he said, "Tell him his wand work was impressive."

Julian laughed humorlessly. "I don't think that's what he needs to hear right now."

"Perhaps not."

Julian left Narcissa in Snape's care and walked down the hall to Draco's room. He knocked loudly, but received no answer. He tried the handle to find that the door was locked and warded from the inside.

"Draco," Julian called. "It's your uncle. Please, let me in."

A long silence followed, but eventually Julian felt the wards fade away. The handle turned and the door opened a few inches. Draco peered out from the crack but did not invite his uncle in. "What do you want?" he asked.

"To make sure you're all right," Julian replied.

"I'm fine," he said, but Draco's voice and eyes told Julian his nephew was anything but fine.

Julian shook his head. "Draco…" he began.

"What?" Draco shouted angrily, cutting him off.

"Let me in, for Merlin's sake," Julian said with greater force. "I want to speak with you."

For a moment Julian thought Draco might slam the door in his face. He was mistaken. The young man threw open the door, but did not invite his uncle in. Instead, he walked away, leaving Julian to enter at his will. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Julian's gaze took in the room's décor. He could not recall the last time he had been in his nephew's room, probably not since before the boy had left for Hogwarts. The room was not how Julian remembered it. Back then, there had been toys and books and posters and games everywhere, each one a reflection of Draco's interests and talents. This room was devoid of anything that might inform Julian of the young man his nephew had become. It was cold and remote. And when Julian looked again at Draco, he was saddened to see those same qualities in his brother's son.

Draco seated himself on the edge of his bed. He was watching Julian, but his blank expression gave no hint of what he expected to come out of his uncle's mouth. Julian took a seat beside him and they sat together in silence for a long time before Julian spoke.

"There was nothing you could've done for your mother," he said. "None of this was your fault."

"No," Draco agreed. "It's my father's fault." He said the word 'father' as any Death Eater would utter 'mudblood'.

Julian had never been one to defend Lucius' actions. On the contrary, he rather enjoyed tearing his brother apart. Perhaps it was Draco's utter disregard when speaking of his father that moved Julian to defend him. "Lucius, your father, he … he's always done what he thought was best for his family."

"Right." Draco's voice dripped with sarcasm. "And that's why mother had to beg you to protect us." He tore the emerald ring from his hand and threw it across the room.

Julian watched the ring bounce off the wall and roll to a halt in the middle of the floor. He cast a spell to retrieve it and the ring flew into his outstretched hand. The surface was unmarred and the spell undamaged by Draco's little fit. He held the ring out to his nephew. "Your mother didn't beg me for help, Draco," Julian said. "Your father did."

Draco's eyes lifted to his uncle's. A genuine expression of surprise lit his face. He looked back down at the ring and took it slowly from his uncle's hand.

"He loves you," Julian continued softly, "and your mother – enough to come to me for help, enough to grovel at the Dark Lord's feet."

Draco said nothing. He merely continued to stare at the serpent ring.

"He's made mistakes," Julian continued. "He knows that now. He never thought the ground would fall out from under him. He was too proud, too arrogant to imagine a day like this one. That's why he never prepared for it. Not because he didn't care about you."

Draco placed the ring back on his hand and turned his head to look at his uncle. "You were smarter," he said.

The corners of Julian's lips turned into a small frown. "I'm not so sure about that," he said. "Luckier, maybe, but sometimes things happen that no one can predict." Julian gave his nephew's shoulder a little squeeze and then he whispered, "I didn't want to hurt your mother."

Draco could not hold his uncle's gaze any longer. He looked away. "I wanted to hurt him," Draco said, referring to his father.

"I know," Julian replied.

Draco closed his eyes. He didn't want to remember how angry he'd been at his father, how angry he _still was_. He didn't want to hear the sound of his father's screams echoing in his head or know that they'd moved him not at all. He didn't feel like thinking on his father anymore. All he wanted to do now was crawl into bed and sleep for a year.

Julian could see the fatigue in the lines of Draco's face. He rose from the bed. "Get some sleep," he said and headed for the door.

"Uncle?" Draco called after him.

"Hmm?" Julian turned.

Draco hesitated only a moment before plunging in. "I heard you, before, in my mind. How did you…?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Draco," Julian said meaningfully. "You're tired. Go to sleep."

Draco knew a forbidden topic when he'd stumbled across one. He closed his mouth and bit his tongue. There would be time to investigate his uncle's trick later. "Good night, Uncle Julian."

"Good night," Julian replied and closed the door.

Julian walked alone down the stairs, through the foyer and out the front door to the gates of Malfoy Manor. From there he could apparate home. The entire time he walked his thoughts were on his nephew's question. Julian knew full well that he'd have to give Draco some reasonable explanation for how he'd entered his mind – and he would – as soon as he came up with one.

* * *

_**A/N:** I can only focus on one story at a time, and as much as I love HP, my LOTR fic comes first. I'll try to throw an update this way again soon. _


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Snape spent the next week brewing the seer's potion. It was more complicated than Wolfsbane and its ingredients less savory. It was a dangerous bit of magic, too, all things considered, and Snape took an even greater risk by brewing two batches at once. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't dare something so reckless with a potion he'd never brewed, but there was nothing 'normal' about the present situation. He needed to know if the potion would work, or more to the point, how well it would work. And he needed to know _before_ the Dark Lord had chance to use it.

Snape had taken a gamble and asked Voldemort if he could test the potion first, to ensure it worked, before troubling his master to visit the seer. Voldemort had agreed and given Snape permission to try the potion on her first. The first batch would be done in less than an hour. That would give Snape a day to regroup before the second batch was ready for use.

Snape sat beside the simmering cauldron with the seer's book in his hand. _More than Shadows._ He had read it through once already. It was ... illuminating ... to say the very least, but he still had no idea why she had given it to him. He knew he was missing something, something that would make all the pieces fit. He needed that information and he would have it tonight – _if _he asked the right questions.

When the first batch was finished Snape transferred enough for a single dose to a glass vial and discarded the rest. It was a waste, really, considering the rarity of the ingredients, but the shelf-life of _Lucidus visum_ was only a few hours. He put the vial in his pocket and, book in hand, climbed the steps to the seer's room. He had not spoken to her since the morning after her arrival. He had been too busy to check on her, or that's what he told himself. He went so far in avoiding her as to send Slinky in the dead of night to collect a sample of her blood. When he reached her door he took one last, steadying breath, lifted his hand, and lowered the wards.

Serena was reading when Snape opened the door. "Severus," she lifted her eyes from the page and smiled weakly. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me."

Snape entered the room and closed the door behind him. "I've been busy preparing something for you," he said, and then he held up the book she had given him, "and reading this."

"Busy, indeed," Serena replied.

Snape, meanwhile, seated himself in the window seat across from her. He laid the book on his lap and drew the vial from his pocket. The potion was dark green in color with silver wisps that sparkled and swirled.

Serena's gaze landed on the small vial and fear flashed in her eyes. "The effects of that potion won't last long," she told him. "Have you decided what you'll ask me?"

"I thought you said you knew everything," he sneered.

"I might have exaggerated a bit," she conceded. "No one knows _everything_, but I know enough. Too much, some might say."

"Well then," Snape said, crossing his arms over his chest, "why don't you tell me what you _don't _know? It would make my task infinitely easier." His voice was thick with sarcasm, but to Snape's great surprise, Serena did as he asked.

"I don't know what I will see when I drink that potion. I don't know if I will live through this war. I don't know who will win." Her eyes were fixed on the swirling liquid when she said this.

Snape took a deep breath and a moment to ponder what she'd told him. There were a great many unknowns covered in those three statements. But there were other things Snape was curious whether the seer knew before they began. "Do you know where Potter is right now?" he asked her.

"Safe," she answered. "I know he's safe."

"But not his location?"

Serena shook her head. "There is powerful magic protecting him."

"And you say you know Dumbledore's secrets."

Serena laughed humorlessly and said, "The dead have no secrets."

"Is that right?" Despite Snape's attempt at indifference, his voice belied surprise.

"That's right," she said. "The living – their thoughts, intentions, are always changing. But the dead – their choices have been made and cannot be altered. There is no uncertainty."

_Uncertainty._ It was one of many things Snape despised it. There was too much uncertainty now – and it would be the death of them all. "Do you know what Voldemort wants with you?"

"He wants me to help him find something."

"Potter?" Snape asked.

Serena closed her eyes and breathed deeply, searching hard for the answer. It was almost within her grasp. "Yes," she said, "and no."

_If not Potter, then…_ "What else is he trying to find?"

Serena shook her head. She couldn't see the answer. It was out there, but just out of reach. "Nothing – yet."

"What does that mean?" Snape growled.

Serena shook her head to clear it. "I don't know," she said, "but I'm sure we'll find out soon enough." Her eyes flicked briefly to the potion before returning to Snape's.

Snape had no doubt they would, but there was one more thing he had to ask her first. He laid his free hand on the book resting on his lap. It contained an entire chapter's worth of information on the potion he held in his hand, and so much more... "Why did you give me this book?"

Serena shrugged, "I knew it would help you."

"How, exactly?" he asked.

But Serena replied, "I don't know."

Snape's line of questioning was over. He knew he would get no clearer information unless the potion worked. He held out the vial to her. "Drink."

Serena looked at the vial, but did not reach out for it. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I will make you drink," he replied.

Serena's eyes flicked briefly to his. She knew he meant it. Snape might not be allowed to use magic against her, but he would not hesitate to hold her down and pour the potion down her throat if he had to. She took the vial from his hand and removed the stopper. She lifted the glass to her lips and in one swift motion downed its contents.

For a few precious seconds nothing happened and Snape allowed himself to imagine the potion was a fake. The fantasy didn't last long. A cry ripped from the seer's throat a moment before she collapsed with a massive convulsion. It happened so fast, Snape barely had time to catch her before she hit the floor. He lifted her up and laid her trembling body down on the bed. She writhed and moaned, as one in the throes of pain or ecstasy. He didn't know what to do, other than monitor her pulse and wait to see what would happen next. A moment later she fell silent and her breathing slowed to an uneven rhythm. Her eyes, wide and vacant, stared up at the ceiling.

It was time – now or never. Snape needed to ask a question, a question for which only he knew the answer. There were many. He was a man with many dark secrets in his past, and he asked the one question whose answer only one living soul knew or ever suspected, "How did my father die?"

Serena's consciousness was torn from her body and set adrift in the vastness of space and time. There was nothing to hold on to, no anchor, no solid ground. There was only a voice, echoing, propelling her forward, into the past, towards a dark, lonely alley…

Her vision cleared and out of the darkness she saw a man and woman arguing. The man was shouting at the woman and lifted a hand to strike her. Before his fist landed the man was thrown back against a wall. He fell to the ground and began screaming in agony.

The woman turned to her husband's attacker – a young man, tall, hooded and cloaked. She cried out to him, and Serena's voice echoed her words. "Severus, please! He's your father!"

"Not anymore," the young man replied.

Serena watched as Eileen Snape continued to plead with her son, but the young man refused to lower his wand. He did not break the curse until his father lay dead and broken on the ground.

"Curse," Serena's trembling voice came out in a whisper. "Cruciatus. So much _hatred_. So much pain."

Snape was struck speechless by the seer's power. Even Dumbledore, in all his years, never knew that Snape had a hand in his father's murder. He could only concede that the potion was working and Serena was indeed in 'the beyond'. But despite his unease, he could not dwell on Tobias's death now. He had other questions that needed answering.

"Why does Voldemort want a seer? What is he trying to find?"

She saw flashes of Potter. A battle in the sky. Two wands connected by fire and light.

"Harry Potter … and … a wand."

"A wand?" Snape asked. "What wand?" There was nothing wrong with the Dark Lord's wand when last Snape saw it.

"The Elder wand," she replied.

Snape frowned. She couldn't be serious. "He's chasing a myth?"

"Yes. No." Her eyes mirrored the confusion in her voice before she found the right answer. "Not yet. Soon."

Snape didn't understand. "Why does he want the wand?" he asked.

"To defeat Harry Potter."

Of course - the Triwizard Tournament! Snape had heard from Lucius how Potter's wand had locked with their master's. Dumbledore had explained it all. _The twin cores._ Voldemort could not use his own wand to defeat the boy. But would he waste time seeking out a fantasy to replace it? "Where is it now, the Elder wand?"

"Dumbledore's grave."

The answer hit him full in the stomach – a mixture of shock and betrayal. "Dumbledore had the Elder wand?" Of course he did. And he never bothered to mention it to Snape, never trusted him with the knowledge.

"Yes."

"Does Voldemort know this?" he asked.

"Not yet."

But he would soon. All he had to do was ask Serena and she would tell him. Snape was not one to believe in children's stories, but he knew with absolute certainty that if Albus Dumbledore had never mentioned he was the owner of the fabled Deathstick, then it must, indeed, hold some mystical power. But the wand was safe in Dumbledore's tomb and was no danger so long as it remained there. And as for Potter…

"When will the Order be moving Potter?"

"The night of the 27th."

"Before the protection spell breaks," he muttered, and then to her, "How will he be travelling?"

"By broom," she said. "By thestral. By motorbike."

"Which is it?" Snape growled.

"All seven."

Snape's patience was thin enough without the seer's cryptic response. "Seven? What do you mean, 'seven'?"

"Seven Potters," she replied.

A light dawned. "Polyjuice potion?" he said.

"Yes."

_Decoys. Of course!_ "Which will be the real Potter?" he asked.

"The motorbike."

Snape's lip curled. _With Hagrid, of course. How clever. _The Death Eaters would expect Harry to be on a broom and with the greatest wizard in the group. But the half-giant was immune to most common spells and the lout would die before giving the boy up to the Death Eaters. Potter would be safe with him. It was a smart plan, but the Dark Lord would know of it as soon as he interrogated the seer. Snape had to prevent it. He needed the seer to tell him how, and quickly. Her eyes were closing. She was fading fast.

"How can I prevent you from revealing information to the Dark Lord?" Surely, there had to be a way, and if there was, the seer would give it to him.

And she did.

"Give the book to Julian," she said.

But before Snape could ask her why, she passed out. The session was over. He would get no more from her tonight. He stood and drew the covers over her small frame. He picked up the book and went downstairs. He called for Slinky the moment he reached the parlor door.

"Yes, sir?" the elf squeaked.

"Go to Julian," Snape said. "Tell him I need to speak with him. _Now._"

The little elf's eyes flashed with annoyance. He did not like the idea of Snape ordering his master about, but he nodded once and vanished on the spot to deliver the message.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ I'm working canon facts into my version of events. It should all flow pretty neatly when said and done, but we'll see. I may have to alter a few things along the way. Now I'm wiggling the hows and whys of Potter's move (and Dumbledore, Dawlish and Mundungus' roles) into the story. Bear with me. It'll make sense in a bit. Thanks for sticking with!  
_


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